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TEXT-BOOK 



IN 



INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY, 



rOK SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES; 



CONTAINING AN OUTLINE OF THE SCIENCE, WITH AN ABSTRACT 
OF ITS HISTORY. 



BY J. T. CHAMPLIN, D.D., 

PRESIDENT OF WATERVILLE COLLEGE, 




BOSTON: 
O-ROSBY, NICHOLS, LEE AND CO., 

117 WASHINGTON STREET. 

1860. 



N 






n:-.-'^ 



Entered, according to. Act of Congress, in the y«ar 1860, by 

J. T. CHAMPLIN, 

In the Clerk's Offlce of the District Court of the District of Maine. 



STEREOTYPED BY COWLES AND COMPANY, 
17 WASUINGTON STREET, BOSTON. 



P E E F A C E 



This treatise is called a Text-Book, because it has 
been purposely thrown into the form adapted to the 
class-room, rather than that adapted to general read- 
ing ; and to intimate, at the same time, that it is offered 
to the public, not so much as a new contribution to the 
matter of the science, as to its form. However, it will 
probably be found about as original as the other trea- 
tises on the subject, which have appeared since the 
principles of the science have been so fully devel- 
oped. 

To ignore what has been done by others, on a sub- 
ject which has attracted the attention and engrossed 
the thoughts of the most gifted of our race for thou- 
sands of years, is simply proof of folly, not of origi- 
nality. A book on such a subject as this, to be up 
with the times, must embrace the best views of previous 
investigators. Could I promise this with regard to the 
present treatise, I should deem it a much better com- 
mendation than any pretence to unusual originality. 
As it is, I can only say, that I have endeavored to make 
myself acquainted with the views of the best thinkers 
on the subject, and have not hesitated to adopt them 



IV PREFACE. 

when I could present no better of my own. I wish 
particularly to acknowledge my indebtedness to Sir 
W. Hamilton, to whom I am under obligations far 
beyond what is implied in the number of direct quota- 
tions from his w^orks, and to whom I might have been 
under still greater obligations, had not this treatise 
been virtually completed before the publication of his 
excellent Lectures on Metaphysics. 

What is here presented is confessedly but an outline ; 
and, as a text-book, it should be only such. Whether 
we consider the wants of the pupil or those of the 
teacher, a text-book should be brief; it should contain 
only the fundamental facts and principles of the science 
to which it is devoted. The field of science is so ex- 
tended, that only the most commanding and essential 
features can be surveyed in a general course of educa- 
tion. Where there is so much that is important, the 
mind of the pupil should not be encumbered with what 
is unessential. Something should be left to be supplied 
by the teacher, and something to be learned by after 
study. An outline is all that ought to be committed 
to memory by the pupil, and all that is required by the 
teacher, as a nucleus around which to gather supple- 
mentary and illustrative matter. If the present treatise 
shall be found adequate to such a purpose, it will fully 
meet the expectations of the author. 

The brief abstract of the history of philosophy, sub- 
joined in an appendix, it is hoped will not be wholly 



PREFACE. V 

devoid of use. It may at least stimulate the curiosity 
of the student to know something more of a subject 
so rich and varied. Both the philosophic aptitude and 
a correct view of philosophy are best acquired by view- 
ing the subject on many sides, as it has presented itself 
to different speculators, in different ages and various 
parts of the world. The abstract contains, of course, 
but the merest hint of the views of the different philos- 
ophers and schools ; but I have studied to convey in 
these hints the leading idea and distinguishing char- 
acter of each system. Aiming at a mere abstract of 
the history, I have not always felt bound to consult the 
original works of the authors, but for the most part 
have been content to follow such competent guides as 
Ritter, Tennemann, Stewart, Morrell, Schwegler, Chaly- 
baus, Lewes, Archer Butler, and Hamilton. 
1* 



CONTENTS. 



INTRODUCTION. 

Page. 

Mind and Matter, 11 

CHAPTER I. 

OF MIND IN GENERAL. 

SECTION I. 

Different Designations of the General Knowing Principle, 15 

SECTION II. 

Intelligence Distinguished from other Mental Phenomena, 19 

CHAPTER II. 

CONSCIOUSNESS. 

SECTION I. 

Nature of Consciousness, 24 

SECTION II. 

Facts of Consciousness, 28 

SECTION III. 

Truths of Consciousness, 31 

SECTION IV. 

Trustworthiness of Consciousness, 42 

SECTION V. 

Concentration of Consciousness (Attention and Reflection), 44 



\ 



Vm CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER III. 

PERCEPTION. 

SECTION I. 

Page. 
Theories of Perception, 49 

SECTION II. 

What we Perceive, 55 

SECTION III. 

How wo Perceive, 61 

SECTION IV. 

Perception by the Different Senses, 67 

SEClflON V. 

Importance of the Senses, 83 

CHAPTER IV. 
MEMORY. 
SECTION I. 

Memory and Recollection, 88 

SECTION II. 

What wo Remember, 92 

SECTION III. 

How we Remember, 98 

SECTION IV. 

Laws of Memory (Association of Ideas), 103 

SECTION V. 

Associative and Logical Thought, 114 

SECTION VI. 

Importance of Memory, 117 



CONTENTS. IX 

CHAPTEE V. 

IMAGINATION. 

SECTION I. 

Page. 

Nature of Imagination, 122 

SECTION II. 

Uses of the Imagination, 127 

SECTION III. 

Training of the Imagination, 133 

CIIAPTERVI. 

CONCEPTION. 

SECTION I. 

Nature of Conception, 138 

SECTION II. 

Formation of Concepts, 142 

SECTION III. 

Kinds of Concepts, 144 

SECTION IV. 

Theories of Conception, 149 

SECTION V. 

Importance of Conception, 152 

CHAPTER VII. 
JUDGMENT. 

SECTION I. 

Nature of Judgment, 156 

SECTION II. 

Kinds of Judgments, 1 59 



X CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VIII. 
REASONING. 

SECTION I. 

Page. 
Nature of Reasoning, 164 

SECTION II. 

Kinds of Reasoning, 169 

SECTION III. 

Eirst Principles of Reasoning, 175 

SECTION IV. 

Improvement of the Reasoning Powers, 180 

APPENDIX. 
Abstract of the History of Philosophy, 185 



INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



INTRODUCTION. 

IMIND AND MATTER. 

1. The body in one sense a part of self. — That which 
each one calls himself embraces more or less in different 
cases. Considering man as a purely reflective being 
5^//* includes only the mind; but considering him as, a 
sensitive and active being, it includes the body as well 
as the mind, since sensation is manifested in the body 
and action transmitted through it. Though the body 
is but the special instrument and medium of the mind 
in communicating with exterior objects, yet, as a por- 
tion of matter specially organized and appropriated for 
that purpose, it becomes so animated and pervaded by 
the spirit, as to seem a part of self. It is not, however, 
the w^hole body of whose affections we are conscious, 
but only the nerves of sensation. But these are so 
largely distributed through the body, and especially 
over its surfaces, that nearly all the external acts and 
internal processes and functions of life affect them. 

2. The body a part of the hitman personality. — As, 
then, the body is animated by the spirit, the spirit be- 
ing directly conscious of the affections of the body, 
while it has no direct consciousness of the affections of 



12 INTRODUCTION. 

any other form of matter, the body is properly consid- 
ered, in the most comprehensive sense of the term, as a 
part of the human personality, though always to be 
discriminated in thought from the real interior, con- 
scious personality, or self. Indeed, the mind first be- 
comes conscious of itself through the various affections 
which the body suffers. It is first awakened to con- 
sciousness by the impressions made upon our bodily or- 
gans from without. 

3. The body the special sphere of the mind. — The 
body is thus the special sphere of the mind ; it is the 
microcosm of the human spirit, as the universe is the 
macrocosm of the Divine Spirit. The mind does not, 
in any proper sense, leave the body in the present life. 
Even in the most discursive thought, it rather draws 
in, or mimics in its own chambers, what is without, 
than goes out to it. But intimately associated as 
mind and matter are in the human being, they are 
broadly distinguished from each other by the qualities 
or modes under which they manifest themselves, and 
by which alone they are known to human intelligence. 

4. Properties of matter and mind respectively. — The 
body, like other forms of matter, is known to us only 
under the various quahties involved in the general no- 
tions of Extension and Resistance. It is composed of 
the same elements as other material objects, only differ- 
ently compounded and arranged, and presents no higher 
claim to the possession of intelligence, than the rocks 
and other earthy substances around us. It is as im- 
possible to conceive that the body thinks, as that these 
do. The mind, on the contrary, is known to us under 
an entirely different character. It is not regarded as 
possessing any of the properties of matter, and hence 



INTRODUCTION. ^ 13 

is said to be immaterial It manifests itself wholly by- 
its properties; or rather, energies, of knowing', luilling, 
^.nd feeling. 

5. Hoio far the loiver phenomena of life depend on 
mind. — How far the lower elements of life in man, 
such as the involuntary motions, and the wonderful 
processes of circulation and appropriation ever going on 
in the human system — processes utterly inexplicable 
by any known mechanical or chemical laws — are de- 
pendent on the presence and influence of the mind, is 
uncertain. But there can be no doubt that all the con- 
scious phenomena are wholly dependent upon it. For, 
although these phenomena disappear at death, this by 
no means proves that they are proper manifestations of 
the body itself. It proves nothing more than that the 
body, in order to be the sphere and instrument of the 
spirit, must retain a certain integrity of parts, and some 
approach to its normal state. When it relapses from 
this condition, as it always does at death,* it becomes 
an unfit instrument for the spirit, and is therefore aban- 
doned. 

6. The precise relation of body and spirit not known. 
— The precise relation which the mind holds to the 
body, we have no means of determining. We know 
that the mind is somehow conscious of the affections of 
the body, but whether by simply being present as a 
witness of them, or by itself actually participating" in 

^ This is obviously so where death ensues from a wasting disease. But 
it is no less so in cases of sudden death, which are usually occasioned, 
either by violence done to some of the central parts of the nervous sys- 
tem — the special seat of the mind, or of the repairing system, without 
whose action the organization immediately degenerates from its normal 
condition. 

2 



14 ^ INTRODUCTION. 

them, may be doubtful : though the latter seems the 
more consistent and probable hypothesis. But what- 
ever may be the precise process of obtaining knowledge 
through the organs of the body, it is evident that it is 
rendered slow, laborious, and defective by such an 
arrangement. The enclosing the soul in a material 
body seems an evidence of our low estate. God and 
other pure intelligences know things at once, by direct 
intuition. 

7. The antithesis of mind and matter. — We thus, at 
the outset^ find in our own persons the ever-recurring 
antithesis of Mind and Matter, and meet at the very 
threshold of our inquiry into our own nature, that mys- 
tery of mysteries, the connection of the Material with 
the Immaterial. It is from this connection that the 
chief difficulties in mental philosophy arise. The vari- 
ous psychological* systems all turn upon the view 
which is taken of this connection. 

=^ " Psychological '' has the same meaning as mental, but is capable of a 
wider application. 



CHAPTER L 

OF MIND IN GENERAL. 

SECTION I. 

DIFJFERENT DESIGNATIONS OF THE GENERAL KNOWING PRINCIPLE. 

1. The mind, soul, intelligence. — The general con- 
scious principle in man, as an independent substance 
or existence, is variously denominated the Mind, the 
Soul, or the Spirit. Of this conscious principle, the 
most important function is that of intelligence, or 
knowledge. And hence, this general power of know- 
ing, though really embracing several distinct processes, 
— higher and lower, — has itself received several dis- 
tinct names, each intended to designate it as a whole 
with more or less exactness. These designations of the 
intelligent principle, all represent the mind as knowing, 
but with some variation of emphasis as to the particu- 
lar processes involved. 

2. The intellect — The term Intellect, in its ordinary 
acceptation, designates the general knowing principle 
of the mind more simply and unequivocally, perhaps, 
than any other term. But even this refers more em- 
phatically to the higher cognitive^' powers, than to 

'^ " Cognitive '' means knowitig, and " cognition," knowledge; but the 
terms admit of a somewhat wider application than their more familiar 
equivalents. 



16 ^ INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

perception, memory, etc. By some philosophers, in- 
deed, the intellect is regarded as the special faculty or 
repository of principles. But even in this sense, which 
is not a very common one, it underlies, if it does not 
wholly include, the general knowing powers of the mind. 
For these native principles, or original convictions of 
the mind, certify and warrant all knowledge. It is not 
without reason, therefore, that by general usage, trea- 
tises on the cognitive powers of man in general are 
called Intellectual Philosophies. 

3. The understanding. — Understanding is another 
term frequently used to designate the intelligent prin- 
ciple in general. It is so used by Locke. His " Essay 
on the Human Understanding," is a treatise on the 
cognitive powers in general. But recent usage, at least, 
does not warrant so wide an application of the term. 
'' The term under standing ^^^ says Sir "W. Hamilton,* 
" usually and properly denotes only a part — the higher 
part — of the cognitive faculties, and is then exclusive 
of sense, imagination, etc." In other places he calls 
the understanding " the faculty of relations and com- 
parisons," which comes to the same thing. Under- 
standing is comprehending, and implies comparison 
and a perception of relations. It is not the mind con- 
sidered as receiving and retaining the materials commu- 
nicated through the senses, but rather as analyzing, 
comparing, and elaborating these materials. 

4. The reason. — Reason^ also, is sometimes made 
to denote the general intelligent principle of the mind. 
But by the more prevailing and better usage, it is made 
to refer more especially, if not wholly, to the very high- 

=^Note to Reid's Works, p. 514. 



OF MIND IN GENERAL. 17 

est and most ideal form of om- intelligence. As dis- 
cursive, as capable of proceeding from step to step 
through a proof, it stands opposed to the mere receptiv- 
ity of sense ; while, as calmly and dispassionately judg- 
ing of the conclusiveness of proofs, it is equally opposed 
to the blindness and excitability of feeling and passion. 
In this form it is the faculty of proofs, and hence the 
process of proof is called reasoning. 

5. Reason intuitive. — The reason, however, is not 
simply the faculty of reasoning. Reason, to adopt the 
distinction of Milton, is not only discursive, but intui- 
tive, also, — intuitive of first principles of truth. Its 
perception of many truths is instinctive, as being the 
immediate and irresistible convictions of our rational 
nature. There must be a last reason in every case. 
Even the reason cannot give reasons for every thing. 
It must rest at last upon its own simple convictions. 
All that it can do, in such cases, is to show its convic- 
tions to be reasonable, — that they involve no contra- 
dictions among themselves, and that in the nature of 
the case, there can be no further reason given ; that the 
convictions upon which it rests are necessarily final, 
and not susceptible of further analysis and reduction. 

6. Reason transcendental. — As to the transcenden- 
tal sense in which the term reason is used, it is of little 
consequence to the student of a sane philosophy, except 
as a matter of history. In the philosophy of Kant and 
his followers, reason is sharply distinguished from the 
understanding, as the faculty or repository of " ideas," 
in the Platonic sense. According to this view, while 
the understanding knows only the finite, the limited, 
the phenomenal, the reason is conversant about the 



18 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

infinite, the absolute, the real. As the philosophy of 
the unconditioned is now generally abandoned by all 
sound minds, this meaning of reason may well be dis- 
regarded. 

7. Consciousness. — The term Consciousness, also, 
might be named as another designation of the knowing 
principle in general. Consciousness, however, does not 
denote knowledge (or the faculty of knowledge) simply 
and purely as such, but knowledge as noted and 
registered. It is knowledge known, and capable of 
being recalled. As the grand revealer and register 
of knowledge, consciousness will receive a fuller treat- 
ment in the next chapter. 

8. Different forms and faculties of knowledge. — But 
the general power of knowing, as it exhibits itself 
under several plainly distinguishable forms or processes, 
is usually distributed among several different faculties. 
According to the most approved distribution, the intu- 
ition, or direct apprehension, of external objects is called 
Perception,* and of internal states or operations of the 
mind. Self- Consciousness ; the recalling of perceptions 
or states of consciousness, is Memory ; the framing of 

^ Since the time of Reid, the term perception has been appropriated 
almost exclusively to the apprehension of external objects. But it is 
sometimes convenient to use the term in a general way, as it was before 
his time, to denote ani/ mental apprehension. In this sense, all mental 
apprehensions are either direct or indirect perceptions. Direct percep- 
tions, whether by sense or reason, are called, also, intuitions ; while indi- 
rect perceptions embrace what are commonly called concepts, judgments, 
reasons, conclusions, etc. Apperception (a term now not much used) is 
the consciousness of any mental representation, as in memory, imagina- 
tion, etc. ; and if the perception of external objects be held to be represen- 
tative, it includes this also. Sensation is properly the objective or outward 
side of perception by the senses, though by Locke it is made to include 
the whole process of perception. 



OF MIND IN GENERAL. 19 

individualized or concrete images, is Imagination ; and 
of generalized or abstract notions, Conception ; the con- 
necting in thought of two concepts is Judgment ; while 
the connecting of pairs of judgments successively, so as 
to necessitate a third judgment in each case, is Reason- 



SECTION II. 
INTELLIGENCE DISTINGUISHED FROM OTHER MENTAL PHENOMENA. 

.1. Different classes of mental phenomena. — Besides 
knowing, we also feel and ivill. We are susceptible 
of the feelings of hunger, pain, weariness, hope, fear, 
joy, gratitude, and the various feelings which make up 
the sum of human happiness and misery. We are 
capable, also, of deliberating, choosing, and resolving. 
These phenomena are evidently quite distinct in char- 
acter from the phenomena of knowing, and yet they 
are all united in a common consciousness. They are 
the concomitants of knowledge — its antecedents, con- 
ditions, effects, consequents, etc. — but not knowledge 
itself. They are all states of consciousness, but not 
properly cognitions. 

2. Different classes of feelings. — Of our Feelings, 
some are so localized in different parts and organs of 
the body, that they may be called organic or corporeal 
feelings. Of this sort is the uneasy feeling in the 
stomach occasioned by the want of food ; also, the 
various aches and pains in the internal organs, or at 
the surface of the body, caused by derangement, dis- 
organization, or pressure. Another class of feelings, 
depending rather upon certain mental perceptions or 
thoughts, than upon local, physical causes, may be 



20 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

called intellectual or moral feelings, — they are com- 
monly denominated Sentiments. They are such as: 
love, which is awakened by the perception or thought 
of an endeared object; desire, which is awakened by 
the perception or thought of any thing which we sup- 
pose will gratify a want ; gratitude, awakened by fa- 
vors received; the sense of beauty or deformity, awakened 
by the presence or thought of comely or uncomely 
objects or acts ; and the sense of right and lorong, awak- 
ened by the perception or recollection of human con- 
duct, as according to, or contrary to, right relations. 

3. Pleasure and pain, good and evil — The feelings 
excited by physical causes, constitute physical pleasure 
and pain ; wfiile those excited by our thoughts, consti- 
tute the more purely intellectual pleasures and pains. 
That which produces pleasure of either kind, is called 
good, and that which produces pain, evil, — yet, good 
and evil of different orders, according to the character 
of the pleasure or pain produced. 

4. Designations and character of the different feeU 
ings. — The feelings, considered in their most general 
character, as modifications of our sentient nature, are 
called Affections ; * considered as mental excitements or 
movements, they are called Emotions ; when violent or 
excessive excitements. Passions ; and when considered 
as appetences towards different objects, or revulsions 
from them, they are called Propensities, or Desires and 
Aversions. But however denominated, and wherever 
conceived as having their seat, even if distinctly local- 

^ Not in the limited sense of " kindly interest in some person or thing," 
in which the term is sometimes used in treatises on morals ; but in the 
more generic sense of the word, as designating ayiy simple tmpressioti or 
modification of our sentient nature. . 



OF MIND IN GENERAL. 21 

ized in particular organs of the body, they are all, evi- 
dently, real mental affections, since they are as unlike 
any mere affections or qualities of matter, as are the 
phenomena of intelligence. And yet they are not 
knowledge, though often the conditions of knowledge, 
as is the case with the special feelings in sensation^ 
which is the condition to perception. The organic feel- 
ings, also, as localized in different parts and organs of 
the body, disclose a knowledge of their place, — in the 
consciousness we have of the affection, we become con- 
scious of its locality. 

5. The moral and cesthetic feelings, — The moral 
sentiments are only a peculiar class of feelings conse- 
quent upon moral perceptions. Thus, Bishop Butler * 
speaks of the moral faculty, as either " a perception of 
the understanding, or a sentiment of the heart, or what 
seems the truth, as including bothJ^ The moral senti- 
ments are merely different forms and degrees of the 
feelings of approbation and disapprobation, in conse- 
quence of conduct or character which is perceived to 
be in accordance with, or contrary to, right relations. 
And the same may be said of the aesthetic feelings, or 
the emotions of Taste. The pleasures and disgusts of 
taste are mere emotions, immediately consequent upon 
the perception by the senses, or the thought of, objects 
of a certain character as to their proportions and parts, 
or their relations, surroundings, etc. There can be no 
aesthetic feelings, without a previous perception or 
thought of objects of an aesthetic character, or under 
aesthetic relations. 

6. The will — The Will is the third grand phase of 
the mind revealed to us in consciousness. The volun- 

* Dissertation on Virtue. 



22 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. • 

tary phenomena are equally distinct from the phenom- 
ena of feeling and the phenomena of knowing. De- 
liberation, indeed, is but an intellectual comparison of 
objects or thoughts ; but the preferring one to another, 
as more desirable, and, above all, the resolving to act 
thus and thus in consequence, are operations quite dis- 
tinct from any mere acts of knowledge. As to the ex- 
tent of the independent power of the will, whether it 
be self-determining, or determined, in its action, this 
question belongs rather to the more general science of 
mental philosophy, and need not be discussed here. I 
may merely say, in passing, that this is a subject upon 
which speculation has thrown, and seems destined to 
throw, but little light. Practically, we feel ourselves 
to be free, though we cannot, it may be, clearly make 
it out in thought. There is ground enough here for 
conviction, for faith, though we can never, perhaps, 
attain to positive knowledge on the subject. 

7. The mode of action of the will not to be consid- 
ered, — Neither have 1 any thing to do with the question 
how the will carries out its determinations through the 
body, — how the mind affects the body or its nervous 
system. This question, with the kindred one, how ex- 
ternal objects affect the mind through the body, belongs 
to physiology, if to any science. Various conjectures 
or assumptions have been made, by those who have in- 
vestigated the physical side of our mental manifesta- 
tions, to account alike for each of these reverse proc- 
esses ; from that of a flow of animal spirits through or 
along the nerves, to that of a development in the ner- 
vous system of some general nervous agent, as elec- 
tricity, or magnetism, which is now, perhaps, the pre- 
vailing assumption among this class of philosophers. 



OP MIND IN GENERAL. 23 

But none of these hypotheses have been established, 
or even rendered probable, on scientific grounds.* 

8. The luill the deepest principle of the mind, — 
These, then, are the three great classes of mental man- 
ifestations, the phenomena of Knowings the phenomena 
of Feelings and the phenomena of Willing^ of which the 
latter seem to proceed from the deepest and most cen- 
tral principle in our nature. The will, more than any 
thing else, seems to constitute the real self. If it be 
free (and unless it is, there can be no morality, and no 
necessity even for the assumption of a spiritual na- 
ture f in us and above us), then it controls the move- 
ments of the mind, and is the primal power in our na- 
ture. The will carries the whole mind with it, and all 
our powers wait to obey its behests. 

^ Whoever wishes to follow, out such speculations, which have thus, far, 
at least, proved rather curious than profitable, will find them ably and yet 
cautiously handled by Dr. Holland, in his Chapters on Mental Phi/siologi/. 

t See Hamilton's Discussions on Philosophy, p. 298. 



CHAPTER 11. 

CONSCIOUSNESS. 

SECTION I. 
NATURE OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 

1. Knowledge and consciousness virtually the same. — 
We cannot properly be said to know any thing which we 
do not note^ mark, observe, or attend to in some degree. 
And when we do thus note or attend to the objects 
before our minds, one thought becomes a'ssociated with 
another, so that they are known together^ and hence 
may be recalled one by the other. Hence, all real 
knowledge must be conscious knowledge ; i.e., knowl- 
edge standing in relation to other knowledge, and con- 
sequently capable of being recalled. Thus knowledge 
and consciousness, if not exactly the same, are yet 
equivalent, since the process of knowing (i.e., noting) ob- 
jects, leads to associated knowledge, or consciousness. 
Hence, knowing, and knowing that we know, are vir- 
tually the same. It is by and in noting objects, and 
only thus, that the mind becomes conscious of them. 

2. Sub-knowledge and sub-consciousness. — But are 
there not also isolated thoughts? Can there be no 
such thing as a knowledge wholly fugitive and transi- 
tory ? In the nature of things, we should suppose that 
we might be aware of many things as they pass, with- 
out noting them sufficiently to render them objects of 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 25 

conscious -knowledge. "We infer the same also from 
many of our nets, which seem to imply an apprehen- 
sion of things, of which yet we have no consciousness. 
But we never can know, except by inference, whether 
there be any such fugitive thoughts or not; for, not 
being associated, they cannot be recalled. However, 
if there be such mental states of wakefulness to what 
is passing, as there seems to be every reason for believ- 
ing there are, which never rise to conscious knowledge, 
they can be nothing else than momentary apprehen- 
sions, by the same general principle of intelligence which 
apprehends permanent knowledge. If they cannot be 
properly called states of consciousness, it is only be- 
cause they are not properly knowledge. They seem to 
constitute a sort of sub-knowledge and sub-conscious- 
ness, producing the same results as knowledge, but 
never fully realized. 

3. Instances of such knowledge. — Such states of 
sub-consciousness seem to be implied especially in the 
performance of processes usually ascribed to the effects 
of habit ; such as reading or repeating a familiar piece 
of composition, singing or playing a familiar tune, tak- 
ing a familiar walk, and the like. Such operations, 
when first performed, are merely a combination of ex- 
ternal signs, representing the like combination of men- 
tal perceptions, of which we are conscious. But in 
time we come to perform them without any conscious 
succession of thoughts. Hamilton, following Leib- 
nitz, regards such operations as the result of what he 
calls latent mental modifications; i.e., a blind action 
of the mind, not only not conscious, but not even intel- 
ligent. Others have regarded such processes as wholly 
automatic in their nature, — as having, by repetition, 
3 



2-6 ' INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

become so connected in their several parts, that after 
the initial mental impulse is given, one movement fol- 
lows another by virtue of the local nervous irritability 
of the system. There are some things, doubtless, which 
seem to favor this last hypothesis especially ; but it 
seems more rational to suppose, with Stewart and many 
others, that even the most familiar acts are the result 
of intelligent states of the mind, but states so naturally 
and rapidly succeeding each other, as not to be dwelt 
upon sufficiently to be capable of being recalled. 

4. The usual antecedents of knowledge do not always 
awaken any mental apprehension. — There- are doubtless 
many cases, where the usual antecedents of knowledge 
exist without awakening in us any mental apprehension 
of any kind, whether momentary or permanent. It is 
often so, undoubtedly, in sleep, and probably also in 
our waking hours, when the mind is very much ab- 
sorbed in other things. In such cases, sights and sounds, 
and other objects of sense, seem to make no impression 
upon us. Yet, even here, we cannot, perhaps, be quite 
certain that no momentary impression is made upon 
the mind. Indeed, we sometimes recall, afterwards, an 
impression, as of the striking of a clock, which awak- 
ened no attention at the time. In such a case, of course, 
there must have been an impression received, and it 
must have been associated, too, at least with the thought 
through which it is recalled ; or else, the attention being 
relieved soon after the impression was made, and while 
it still continues in its effects, * it is now first recog- 

=^ In the case of sight, we learn, as observed by Berkeley, that the im- 
pression remains so as to be distinctly cognizable for a time after the cause 
is removed, by the simple experiment of moving a burning coal or candle 
rapidly round in a circle, when an entire ring of light is seen. This, of 



CONSCIOUSNESS. ' 27 

nized. Still, it scarcely admits of a doubt, that there 
are many case^ where the usual antecedents of knowl- 
edge exist without awakening in us any nriental appre- 
hension at all. 

5. Consciousness not a distinct faculty. — Conscious- 
ness, then, is not a distinct faculty, as represented by 
Reid and many other philosophers, engaged in witness- 
ing the operations of the other faculties, but is the gen- 
eral knowing principle, contemplating and assured of its 
own acts. A machine works blindly, but the mind 
knows as it works. Knowing, willing, and feeling be- 
come distinct acts, only as they are consciously so. 
They are all alike realized, and can be realized, only in 
and through consciousness. Consciousness is knowing 
that we will and feel, as well as knowing that we 
know, and hence embraces all knowledge, — at least, 
all distinct knowledge. It extends to external acts of 
perception, as well as to the internal acts of the mind : 
but in speaking of our knowledge of external objects, 
it is more proper to say that we perceive them, than 
that we are conscious of them, since perception denotes 
the outward side of this form of consciousness. 

6. Consciousness embraces all the materials luhich the 
mind has to work with, — As, therefore, consciousness 
embraces all the cognitive acts of the mind, the facts 
of perception, memory, imagination, etc., may all be 
taken together as the facts of consciousness. Indeed, 
as a general name for the cognitive principle on its sub- 
jective* side, and the general medium in which all 

■ — . s — 

course, would not be the case, did not the impression made by the light, 
at each point, remain after it had passed on to other points. So, also, we 
speak of a sound continuing to " ring in the ear." 

^ Psychologically, the subject is the mind, and hence subjective denotes 
something pertaining to the mind ; or, as this is internal relatively to the 



28 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

knowledges become known, consciousness may be said 
to embrace, also, those primary truths^ or intuitions^ of 
the Reason^ or Intellect^ as they are variously denomi- 
nated, which lie at the foundation of all knowledge. 
Hence consciousness, in its most general sense, em- 
braces all the facts and truths, and furnishes all the 
materials, which the mind has to work with. These 
primitive materials may be combined into various fan- 
tastic forms by the imagination, and innumerable and 
far-reaching deductions may be drawn from them by 
the powers of the understanding, and this is the extent 
to which the human mind can go. The facts and 
truths of consciousness, then, and inductions and de- 
ductions from them, constitute all the knowledge of 
which we are capable. 



SECTION II. 
FACTS OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 



1. Importance of including all the facts. — As con- 
sciousness embraces all the elements of knowledge, it 
becomes the most important question in philosophy, to 
ascertain what these elements are. Any mistake here 
affects all that follows, and vitiates the whole system. 
We want here, as in courts of justice, " the truth, the 
whole truth, and nothing but the truth." Nothing 
should be rejected which is found in consciousness, and 
nothing admitted which is not found there. The 
authority of consciousness is to be taken as ultimate, 
and its testimony as final. We are merely to establish 



object, which is external, subjective often dcRotes, as here, what pertains 
to the more internal view of the mind itself. 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 29 

the fact of the existence of an element in conscious- 
ness, not to show its possibility ; the sole question being 
ichat is actually found in consciousness ? Let us now 
attend to this question, as far as the bare facts revealed 
in the simple operation of the different faculties are 
concerned. 

2. Facts revealed in perception, — I begin with Per- 
ception. There can be no doubt that, in our mature 
experience, we are conscious of two distinct elements 
in every act of perception, — the subject perceiving, 
and the object perceived ; a self and a not-self. In the 
perception of a tree, for instance, we are as clearly con- 
scious of an object perceived different from self, as we 
are of a perceiving self. And the same must hold of 
first perceptions. Even if, at first, we apprehend noth- 
ing in perception beyond an affection of the organ, still 
this is a not-self in relation to the knowing principle. 
Besides, in the experience of resistance^ which is inci- 
dent to our power of changing place, and hence almost 
necessarily connected with the exercise of the sense of 
touch, we, from the first, directly apprehend external 
objects, at least through this sense. 

3. The two elements in perception, — In every act of 
perception, then, we have given, in consciousness, a self 
and a not-self, brought face to face, but yet entirely 
distinct from each other. We never for a moment, 
imagine ourselves and the object perceived to be the 
same. Whatever theorists may assert as to the iden- 
tity of matter and mind, there is certainly nothing of 
the kind revealed in consciousness. Nor does the 
object perceived appear to be a mere thought or rep- 
resentative image in the mind. The mind not only dis- 
criminates perceived objects from itself, but gives them 

3* 



30 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

an existence entirely independent of, and foreign to, 
its own. This is the case not merely with the common 
man, but with the philosopher. Whatever one's theory 
in the case may be, he never can get rid of the convic- 
tion that the objects of perception are distinct from, 
and exterior to, himself. 

4. The facts revealed in memory. — In Memory, on 
the contrary, there is no consciousness of an external 
object as actually present to sense. We simply pic- 
ture or represent to ourselves by an act of the mind, 
the object remembered, and contemplate this representa- 
tion alone. We reproduce the object in imagination, 
and recognize the representation as the undoubted 
counterpart of what we once perceived and what may 
still exist, but out of the sphere of sense. In memory, 
therefore, consciousness directly reveals nothing out of 
the mind itself. We have simply the mind represent- 
ing something past, and the representation thus formed 
for its object, — the mind thinking and its thought* 
The external object, though clearly recognized in the 
representation, is not directly contemplated as pres- 
ent. 

5. The facts revealed in imagination, — In an act of 
Imagination, also, we are conscious only of the think- 
ing subject and its thought. The elements of which the 
figment of the imagination is composed, may be recog- 
nized as the representatives of objects formerly per- 
ceived, but these objects are not supposed to be present, 
and the image as a whole is regarded as a mere phan- 
tom conjured up by the mind, and having no existence 

^ In the most general sense of the term, anj^ act of consciousness is a 
thought, though, in a more restricted sense, only the acts of the under- 
standing and the reason arc considered such. 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 31 

out of it. Thus, while in perception we are conscious 
of a subject knowing and an object known distinct 
from self, in memory and imagination, we are con- 
scious of only the mind and its representation — in 
the one case, as a representation of something real, and 
in the other, as of something wholly fantastic. 

6. The facts in other mental operations, — So, too, in 
all other mental operations, we are conscious of only 
the mind and its thought. In Intuition ^ and Concep- 
tion, the only object before the mind is a general truth 
or abstract notion. In Judgment, the only object 
before the mind is concepts ; as judgments are the only 
object before it in Reasoning. In Feeling, the locality 
of the feeling or the thought which excites it, is the 
object which the mind contemplates ; while in Willing, 
the conception of the act to be performed is the object 
which it has in view 



SECTION III. 
TRUTHS OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 

Nature of the truths of consciousness. — The facts of 
consciousness, considered in the preceding section, are 
barely what is explicitly involved in the various cogni- 
tions accompanying the action of the several powers 
of the mind. The truths of consciousness, also, are 
brought out by experience, but do not seem to be actu- 
ally included f in it. They are found in consciousness, 

^Intuition, in its most general sense, is a direct beholding of any object 
or truth, by a single indivisible act of the mind. Intuitive acts of reason 
arc simple acts, as opposed to the discursive acts of reason, which consist 
of a succession of steps. As a simple, direct, face-to-face cognition, the 
perception of an external object by sense is also an intuition, — but only 
a sensitive or empirical intuition ; while the former are rational intuitions. 

tif not included in experience, of course, they cannot be generated by 



32 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

and if they are not mere secondary notions, formed by 
abstraction and generalization from experience, they 
rest upon the same authority as the facts of conscious- 
ness, the reliability and truthfulness of the nature which 
God has given us. If they are original convictions 
they are from God, and may certainly be trusted. As 
the human mind is limited, thought is necessarily lim- 
ited, and these primary principles or beliefs^ seem to be 
the limiting lavjs or conditions of thought imposed by 
our Creator. They naturally fall into the three follow- 
ing classes :— 

I. Ideas brought out in connection with perception^ 
such as: the ideas of Space, Time, Substance, and 
Causation. 

1. Our idea of space not derived from motio7i. — To 
begin with the first of these ideas ; it is clear that Space 
is not directly perceived by the senses, as it has no 
qualities appreciable by sense. It has neither flavor, 
. savor, sound, color, nor resistance. If it be reached in 
any way through the action of our organism, it must 
be through our power of changing place. But change 
of place is change in space, and hence can be under- 
stood only as we already have an idea of space. If 
we have any idea of change of place, or motion, it must 
be because we already have an idea of space, as hav- 
ing parts out of parts, and hence admitting of motion. 
And if we can have an idea of motion, only as we 
have an idea of space, of course, we do not derive our 
idea of space from our experience of motion. 

reflection upon experience ; since this is mel'ely scrutinizing experience, 
and no scrutiny can find what is not there. Tfte great error of Locke, 
and others of his school, consists in making these ideas actual generaliza- 
tions from experience, because they spring up in connection with it. 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 33 

2. The here and the there are added by the mind. — 
When we say, that we see objects here and there, in 
different places, and, by the use of our linribs move here 
and there, all that we see, of course, is the objects, and 
all that we experience is certain exertions of the mus- 
cles ; the here and the there are added by the mind. 
The truth seems to be, that in all our perceptions of 
objects, by the very constitution of our minds, we nec- 
essarily conceive of them as existing in space. All 
our sensations, from the first, seem to reveal themselves 
as out of each other, thus supplying extension to our 
own bodies first, and then to objects* exterior to our 
bodies. Thus objects become to us extended, and we 
believe them to be really so ; but, though they are, they 
would not appear so unless the mind so conceived 
them. 

3. Our idea of space transcends all possible expen- 
ence. "T-'BMt the most conclusive proof that our idea of 
space is not a generalization from experience, is, that 
it transcends all possible experience. We may, per- 
haps, through the mutual outness of our sensations, be 
said to experience space, under the limited relations of 
extension, but we know nothing of space, and can know 
nothing of it, through any form of experience, except 
in finite relations. And as experience warrants only as 
far as it goes, and we can generalize nothing more from 
experience than is in it, our notion of space, if derived 
from this source, should be only finite. But in fact, 

* This is not saying, of course, that objects have no extension except 
that conferred on them by the mind in thinking of them. Kather, that 
we necessarily think of (Ejects as occupying space, is an evidence that they 
actually do; since, that we are made to think so, is a strong presumption, 
at least, that it is so. 



34 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

our notion of space is far from being confined to its 
finite relations, of which we have obtained an actual 
knowledge through experience. We conceive the finite 
space, of which we have had experience, as only a part, 
and a very small part, of an infinite space stretching 
out inimitably on all sides. We can place no bounds 
to space even in imagination. It overleaps any outposts 
of creation which we can conceive. Whence do we 
derive such a notion, if it be not a necessary concep- 
tion ? 

4. The same reasoning applicable to our idea of time. 
— Precisely the same reasoning applies to our notion of 
Time, and with the same result. We cannot perceive 
time by the senses, nor do we derive it from succession ; 
since the idea of succession presupposes the idea of 
time. In our experience, then, the now and the then 
must be added by the mind, just as we have seen that 
the here and the there are. We necessarily conceive 
of time, too, as without limit — as proceeding from 
everlasting to everlasting. Hence it appears that space 
and time are necessary conditions of thought. By the 
very constitution of our minds, whatever we think of, 
we necessarily think of as existing in space and time. 
We can think of space and time devoid of objects, but 
not of objects out of space and time. 

5. Our idea of substance, — So, too, we cannot di- 
rectly perceive Substance, whether material or immate- 
rial. In the perception of external objects, as well as 
in the consciousness of ourselves, we directly apprehend 
only qualities and states or acts. But it is impossible 
for us to think of physical qualities or mental states as 
existing alone, or in and for themselves. We are com- 
pelled to think of them as belonging to some substra- 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 35 

turn, or substantive existence. Material qualities and 
mental affections are both conceived as relative^ as nec- 
essarily implying a something to which they belong. 
Thus, the assumption of a substantive existence for 
ourselves, as well as for material objects, is forced upon 
us by the necessities of thought — by the necessary 
conceptions with which our Creator has endowed us. 

6. HoiD the notion of causation arises. — Again, in 
observing the changes which are constantly going on 
around us, w^e find there springs up within us the idea 
of Causation. We say, this caused that event or 
change, and that caused another, and so on. And by 
causation, be it observed, we mean something more 
than simple antecedency ; we mean that every change 
is effected by some poicer. All changes seem to us to 
require power to effect them. But we have no direct 
perception of the exertion of this power ; neither the 
power nor its action is an object of perception. Hence 
Hume, and other sceptics, have denied the validity of 
the notion, treating all idea of causation, beyond that 
of simple antecedency, as a wholly unw^arranted notion, 
due entirely to habit. 

7. Is not derived from experience. — To save this 
idea, therefore, so important in its moral as well as its 
metaphysical bearings, it becomes necessary to show, 
either that it is a legitimate product of experience, or 
that it is a native and necessary conception. Each has 
been attempted by different philosophers. Those who 
regard the idea as empirical, i.e., as arising from expe- 
rience, generally derive it from our experience of causa- 
tion in effecting changes by our walls. We undoubt- 
edly are conscious of various acts of the will and of 
various movements of our organs consequent upon 



36 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

these acts. These antecedent acts and consequent 
movements we may be said to experience^ but not, cer- 
tainly, the action itself of the will upon the organs. 
As these internal acts and external movements uni- 
formly follow each other, we infer their connection on 
the most satisfactory grounds, but cannot properly be 
said to experience it. The mode of action of the will 
on the nerves is not a matter of consciousness, and 
hence not a matter of experience. Here, as in physical 
causation, we are actually conscious of only antecedents 
and consequents, not of the causal action itself. We 
have no doubt that there is a real causal action in both 
cases ; and as w^e are directly conscious of an exertion 
of the will in the case of voluntary causation, we can 
have no doubt that this is the real causal impulse 
which acts upon the organs. But this is an inference, 
not an experience, and hence not a direct knowledge 
or idea. 

8. It is a necessary conception. — Our idea of causa- 
tion, then, must be one called out by experience, though 
not properly included in it. Froin the very make of 
our mental constitution, we can conceive no change as 
taking place without an adequate cause. We cannot 
think change as mere caprice, nor events as isolated 
from each other. They are all linked together in our 
minds as causes and effects. The notion is not, simply, 
that this and that change, which we have witnessed, 
must have had a cause, but that every change must. 
The notion is universal and all-pervading in its char- 
acter, and just as much so upon limited as upon the 
most enlarged experience. 

9. Causation not necessarily in the antecedent. — But 
as, in the case of physical causation, we have no 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 37 

perception of any action whatever in the antecedent, 
and no reason for Considering it the cause except 
that it is the antecedent, it follows that there is no 
scientific necessity for considering the causal power as 
actually residing in the antecedent. The nature of 
causal action not being known, we can never perceive 
any particular adaptedness in one object more than in 
another to produce a given result, and hence can have 
no reason for considering the particular antecedent as 
the cause, other than the bare fact of its antecedency. 
Indeed, it is difficult, if not impossible, for us to con- 
ceive, or believe, that one form of matter has any ac- 
tual power of its own over another form of matter, so 
as, of itself, to effect any change in it. 

10. The First Cause, — This doctrine of causation 
leads directly back to a First Cause. A succession of 
finite beings or events cannot reach back through and 
fill up the antecedent eternity. Such a series must 
have a starting-point — there must have been a begin- 
ning to it. And such a beginning for man, and many 
other races of animals, as well as plants, is distinctly 
attested by geological science, to say nothing of Reve- 
lation. At the head of all causes stands the First 
Cause. Nor is our consciousness satisfied in making 
God simply a first cause. We feel that he is now, and 
ever has been, the grand Efficient Cause in producing 
the changes which are constantly taking place. We 
cannot conceive that the power of causation resides in 
matter, and only in a limited degree in the human will. 
Our idea of causation finds its complete exemplifica- 
tion, and attains its absolute universality, only in God. 

11. Primary beliefs brought out in connection icith acts 
of the memory^ such as our Beliefs of the actual past 

4 



38 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Existence of what is represented in memory, and of 
our Personal Identity. 

1. In memory we are not directly conscious of the 
thing itself. — As already observed, in an act of mem- 
ory there is no consciousness of the presence within 
the sphere of sense of the object remembered, but only of 
its mental representation, or the thought of it. Indeed, 
the object itself is distinctly regarded as absent from 
sense. Still, we as firmly believe in the existence of 
the object at the time to which our memory refers it, 
as we do in the present existence of an object now per- 
ceived. The recollection, or thought, of a past percep- 
tion, has all the authority with us of a present 
perception. 

2. But the recollection is perfectly reliable. — Now, 
as we have in memory only a representative thought 
of the object, how are we to know that this thought is 
not delusive? To this we can only reply, that we are 
so constituted as to take the recollection of any thing 
as conclusive evidence of its having been once perceived 
by us, and of its actual existence when and as repre- 
sented in memory. We are determined to this conclu- 
sion by our very nature, and cannot believe otherwise. 
We can no more doubt the truth of what we clearly re- 
member, than we can the perceptions of our senses or 
the conclusions of our reason. The firmness and uni- 
versality of our belief in the truthfulness of memory 
are evinced by the readiness with which testimony is 
everywhere received, both in the common relations and 
intercourse of life, and in courts of justice. By this im- 
portant law of our nature, knowledge is perpetuated 
and rendered as valid and available in after recollection 
as in original perception. 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 39 

3. The same is true of our belief in our personal iden- 
tity. — So, too, of our Personal Identity, or sanaeness 
at different periods of time. Our bodies change, and 
©ur thoughts change, but consciousness, the knowing 
principle — our real self — seems always the same. I 
know myself only as a conscious being, and were I 
continuously conscious, I should continually have the 
consciousness of my sameness. But I am not continu- 
ously conscious, and if I were, past states of conscious- 
ness could be known only through the memory. 
Hence our belief in our personal identity must rest at 
last upon memory. I am now conscious, and I re- 
member of having been conscious yesterday, the day 
before, last year, etc., and I have no doubt that the 
very J of to-day was conscious on these past occasions, 
as represented in memory. I cannot help trusting in 
the veracity of memory here, as in other cases. As 
memory predicates a succession of conscious states of 
the same J, I cannot doubt that they actually belong to 
the same being, myself. If Jam conscious (or remem- 
ber) to-day, that /was conscious yesterday, I must be- 
lieve that there has been a continuance of the same 
personality from one conscious state to the other. 

III. First principles assumed in reasonings such as 
the Logical and Mathematical Axioms. 

1. What some of these axioms are. — As these axi- 
oms will come up for consideration again, I merely 
name the most important of them here. The Logical 
Axioms are such as these: — "No object can, at the 
same time, both be and not be." — " Every proposition 
must be either true or false.'' — " Every proposition or 
its contradictory must be true.'^ — " Whatever may be 
truly affirmed of a whole, may be truly affirmed of 



40 IN'M';iJJ';r;'i'(iAi. i'MiLr);i()i'iiv. 

eificli itiMi nil oj ili^jMM,.. i >\ IIm' lilvr niiiuH nn^ 

IIm' IVIiilhniiHJicjil AHiomH, Umi **lhn wlioh^ in lujunl lo 
(Jim hum ol' ilit pnrlV' "''i'^ "two Hlnilji^lil/JlmiN cjinriot 
nncjimn 11 npiir.d/' <iU'., 'riirr^Miiid lln^ likd nxloitiN of 
rr^Mh(Miliifj^, lli(Mi^/li nnivn'hnlly niTcpl^'rl hh hoon im un- 
<|rrhlo(Ml, run imvit Im' iirJimlly vrrilicd hy rx|)rrir*n<'(*, 
(iihI rnliiinly, hit im*I, driivrd IVoiii c*x|Kirl(^lM''<*H, Hine(! 
iJmy Min (Miiicrivcd l(i l)(i oi' luiivcu'hiil (tpplicution. 
Tlify Mir, llMTr'Toh^, orif^iliiil jiMlfJ[lMniilh Inillirt hj'II- 
<wi(li'iit In iihf iinilhn' i'('(|iiitiiifr nor iMliniiiinf/ nny 
|ii'nnr. 

Ui yl nniiiihilii I'mimtmiUon ((/' Jlrnt prinrl/t/rH md 
iihnrdiiL Tlicn^ iirr, of r(Mii'iH(<, oilier primiiry IrulliH 
ol* I'oiihrloiiHlM^hh, holli oI'llilM niKJ llic preceding/ t'lnhHCh. 
TIltiNd, liownvnr, nro hoim^ ol' Mm murr iiiiporlinil, mimI 
nil lliiil. iirrd ho niiiiMMJ lirrr. Willioiil, liirirrort^, iii- 
lniii|i(inf/ n rurllirr niniiiirnilioii,'^ I clohc^ lliiH HCi^lioii 
willi nil nlnidf/rd mImIimim'iiI of llin i\>\\r rriirri(f()\' Hir 
W. Iliiiiiillnn,| Int dihliii^iliHliiiif^( <Mir orifnnid IVoni mir 
dorlvrd ronvinlioiih. Tlioy nnniH roliowH!- 

(I.)**^riirir hinniiprr/it'itsihi/i/f/. A conviclKm in ui- 
coniprojiriiruhji^ wlirii (Imro JM iiMM'rly m^ivrii iih in coii- 
Nnlouwiir^NH *rii(tt Uh ohjvvt h^ mid vvIm'ii wi^ hit mm- 
hJM to (MMii|)ndioiid llii'oii|L(li n lii^lior notion ur Ix^lini', 
li'/iijar Ihnn if is, Wlicii \v(^ mo minhin lo comproiicnd 
why or how n lhiii|j; ih, iht^ holiol' of IIk^ i^xihh'iion of 
Hint (hiiifjr in not ii primitry dniiim of roiih(*i(mHn(mH|bnt 

-^F— —————— —————— "^^ II 

# Dr. Whmvnll, In hU f^hthmphf qf th Tuthirtivfl Srhncen, liivs ^ivon u 
V0ry hill iiiMJ oInlMinilo (Mitiiiiornlloii (it IIk^ prhniii'v (iiiiIin (it cniiru'lnHM- 
linNH, (^NjMtrJitllv hC llinno iirioij in linliiiMivo liiv('«rillf^tillniiii. Ilul li(t U );(*linr- 
itlly (ll(Ml^li^ hi liiivo tiiJiiiiiliMl iiM) iiiniiy (nilliN lu (ho lioiior ut uiigU 
imlliy. 

I Nofi \V|;.||('h llMIMlilull. pp. IV Ml. 



(«,) ^ 'ili^fif Mimplidty. It j« rnJin/fV^^t f hjjt if u <jo^- 
nitiofi or Ixrlj/rf |>« miuUi lip of, ftfld cur^ h/5 it%\)\U'JiU'4 
info, Ji plurjlify of rjf^tMottn or IxrI/irf?*, ihui, «« r^irrj- 
I>oii/jrJ, if. (;;uHioi iff. (fn^ittui 

('i.) ** Th^tir wiatHHil/f/ and ahftolulM uni/mrMalUy, N*> 
y 'iri'i univ/tr^aliiy rnuy h<; rtt^arfUul sin (^yUwUUmU 
I 'jf //\nn a \nlUtf h wioM'.try^ it J?*., roipao^ linivr^Jil; 
and that a l;i'Ji^rf i?i nft\v**rMil^ in a c^^rtain i/i<J'^% that it 
iniiwt ^><? luu'Att^nnry. lUii i\^i muutnmiy lumt npokftn of, 
i>4 of two k\n(k, TUi^ra U oufi nfii*4tm^Hy, whim wti (mt^ 
not cAimArui*, it U$ onr rni;t/l?-, at^ \}^m^\fU^^ rfiat th<^ /l^j* 
livf^riitti'Ji of ('JHtn4:UfUt^ftf*nn niiotild iiol Uti Um^u 'Viutrtt 
in iitufilusr niu^iwity, wli/m it U not iinthJnkadl^ that 
iUii iM\wi*rdtu*Ai of i'Amni*Mmnmnn rrmy i^imniUly \m h\m^ 
bnt Uit-ri'ly hnfxf^.t'ihlt'^ Ut tU'tty that nri/^h uv,UrM\y 'i'A 
th^5 d*Uv(^riin<'jt of i'/tnmump.w.Y.n. \h'\\yi*TdWA'M (ff i\nt 
ihni kind ar#? rm^r« (ummufuly v/dWtui v^uuinnwfn l/ndknf^ 
tfi/>W5 of llm lattiff kind a^5 r'.all/vi f;y Dr. il^ti/1 /f/;i;{ pHn^ 
r/lplf,H of tyml/mfrf'M Inilhn, 

{\.) ^^ Th'j fourth and )a«t diani/rf^tr of our orip;/- 
rial \ii*\\i*i% \$k th^tir i'^nrnmrniiyft fivUkwid and (xrlaintfi. 
; along with ih^ third, i« v/^^ll »tat<iJ<l 1/y ArinUfiUr, 
• » nat appcM/rn to ////, that v/^' uiVirrti //> /y/r; ar/d h<j v/f/o 
njt'Cin iUh \>iWi*,f v/ill anntinuUy advan'.^; nothing hrWr 
dfHf'/rvlnff cTf'fUwte,^ And apra/n J ■ — Mf w<^ know and 
\>4tliitvit iSmmi/}i c^tri/din orif<inal \ff\tm\)Utn^ w« rnniet 
know anrj \pi*\u-.wt* \hi*M4*. with prmmumrU mrlMnty^ for 
viic vt'jy n^unofi that v/'^ knov/ an<J h^li^//^^ all ^'l«i; 



42 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

through them.' This constitutes the first of Buffier's 
essential qualities of primary truths, which is, as he ex- 
presses it, — 'to be so clear, that if we attempt to 
prove or disprove them, this can be done only by prop- 
ositions which are manifestly neither more evident nor 
more certain.^ " 



SECTION IV. 
TRUSTWORTHINESS OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 

1. What the question here is. — The question here 
is, how much confidence should be placed in a simple, 
primary fact or truth of consciousness : what degree 
of credit these original data of consciousness are enti- 
tled to. And it is the more necessary to consider this 
question, as it has been fashionable to discredit these 
primary intuitions as mere beliefs ov feelings, furnishing 
no guaranty for their truth. That any thing should be 
relied upon as true, it has been thought necessary that 
it should be supported by proofs. 

2. Thei'e must be first principles in knowledge. — 
But it is obvious, on the slightest reflection, that all 
proofs owe their validity entirely to their conformity to 
the laws of thought. All proofs start with simple, ad- 
mitted principles of intelligence, and proceed only by 
its continued admissions. And what are these admis- 
sions but primary intuitions of consciousness ? It is 
obvious that every thing cannot be proved. If it could 
be, then every proof might in turn be proved, and there 
would be a continual retrogression of reasons for rea- 
sons, without end. There must be starting-points in 
knowledge, and these can be nothing else than the 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 43 

primary intuitions or convictions of our conscious in- 
telligence, either facts or truths of consciousness. 

3. The nature of these principles. — Some of these 
intuitions, as we have seen, are absolutely necessary 
forms of thought, we can neither annihilate them in 
thought, nor think their opposites. And is it probable 
that we should have been made with such an inexora- 
ble necessity of thinking thus, unless things really are 
as we are compelled to think them ? Other intuitions, 
though not thus necessary to thought, are equally nec- 
essary as facts, — we are compelled by an inward ne- 
cessity to admit them as facts. They force themselves 
upon us as undoubted realities. If they are not real- 
ities, if they are wholly, or in any degree, delusive, then, 
as in the previous case, we are plainly tantalized by 
our Maker, — we are furnished with a semblance of 
knowledge only to be made its dupes ; our capacity of 
knowledge is an ignis fatuus to lead us astray. 

4. They can be discredited only by showing them to 
be contradictory, — There is always, then, in the first 
instance, a decided presumption in favor of these pri- 
mary intuitions, which must remain unless they can be 
discredited in some way, as by showing them to be 
contradictory among themselves, which never has been 
done, and probably never will be. It is always allowa- 
ble, of course, to deny that what is claimed to be an 
original intuition is such. But then, it is incumbent 
on the doubter to shoiu that it is not original, either by 
pointing to some simpler intuition from which it is de- 
rived, or by proving that it really is no valid perception 
of the mind, but only a prejudice or whim of the 
fancy. 

5. They lie at the foundation of philosophy. — These 



44 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

primary intuitions of consciousness lie at the foun- 
dation of philosophy, which is, indeed, but the devel- 
opment and application of the facts and truths which 
consciousness immediately reveals. A philosophy, 
therefore, which professes to rest upon consciousness, 
while it should carefully exclude all spurious first prin- 
ciples, should be equally careful to embrace all the real 
primary facts and truths of consciousness. And admit- 
ting these, it must admit as one fact the immediate con- 
sciousness of external objects in perception; for our 
consciousness of external objects in perception is as 
clear as our consciousness of any thing whatever. 
Here, as in other cases, we are to inquire simply for 
the fact^ and not to reject the fact because we cannot 
see how it can be so. 



SECTION V. 
CONCENTRATION OF CONSCIOUSNESS (ATTENTION AND REFLECTION.) 

1. What attention is. — Attention is a special concen- 
tration of consciousness upon some particular object, 
process, phenomenon, or passing event. When we 
give ourselves up to the influence of what is passing 
around us, without endeavoring to control our thoughts 
or feelings, there is no special exercise of attention. 
In such cases, there is barely the ordinary wakefulness 
of the mental powers, such as is secured to each ob- 
ject in turn, by the varying interest which they excite 
in the mind in its different moods. But the moment 
we make an effort to apply ourselves to any particular 
business-or study, our consciousness is more or less 
concentrated on that, to the exclusion of other things ; 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 45 

and in the highest concentration of consciousness, every 
thing is excluded from the mind except the matter im- 
mediately under consideration. 

2. Attention carries tJ^e lohole mind loith it. — As the 
acts of the mind are only conscious acts, and as, indeed, 
we know the mind only in its conscious acts, when the 
consciousness is specially concentrated upon any ob- 
ject, the whole mind is virtually concentrated upon it. 
Hence, when attention to any thing is complete, we 
are wholly absorbed in it, and are as incapable, while 
the concentration lasts, of any other intelligent process, 
be it perceiving, remembering, or reasoning, as though 
we had no mind. By attention, then, the whole mind 
is turned to some object, with the faculty, or faculties, 
required in the case, in the highest degree of wakeful- 
ness, and in readiness to exert themselves. 

3. How far the attention is under the control of the 
loilL — The special concentration of consciousness, 
called attention, is effected by the will, and hence the 
attention is said to be under the control of the will. 
This it undoubtedly is to a certain extent, but not ab- 
solutely. We can at any time, by an act of the will, 
concentrate our attention upon an object, but we can- 
not always, by an act of the will, keep it so concen- 
trated, against the intrusion of wandering thoughts and 
the diverting influences of passing events. Hence the 
attention, after it has been concentrated on any object, 
is liable at any moment to be diverted. The will, 
doubtless, may resist these influences to a certain ex- 
tent, but not to all extents, — they may become so pow- 
erful as to be irresistible. Here, then, are indicated the 
chief points to which we should direct our efforts in 
attempting to increase our control over the attention. 



46 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

4. To control the attention ive should always act with 
a will. — In the first place, then, we should cultivate 
resoluteness of purpose and persistence of will in con- 
trolling the attention. We sl^ould form a settled pur- 
pose of acquiring as complete control over our atten- 
tion, and hence over our faculties generally, as possible. 
When we turn our attention to any thing, we should 
do so with the determination of holding it there to the 
end, if possible, against all distracting influences. We 
should make it a point to resist to the utmost all such 
influences. We should be resolute and in earnest in 
all that we do, working in all cases under a strong ten- 
sion of the will. Such a course will greatly increase 
the power of the will over the attention amid distracting 
influences. 

5. We should cultivate orderly habits of thought^ etc. 
— Besides, these disturbing influences themselves may 
be very much diminished and controlled by proper in- 
ternal habits and external arrangements. Wandering 
and intrusive thoughts come chiefly of desultory habits 
of thinking. Our minds are formed for regular and 
coherent thought. In the natural order, one thought 
leads to another by a regular succession. In memory, 
reasoning, and all the fundamental processes of thought, 
one step almost necessarily follows another in a given 
order, in a well-regulated mind. To exclude wander- 
ing thoughts, then, we have only to follow, and confirm 
in our practice, the order of nature as to the connection 
of our thoughts. We should persistently discipline 
ourselves to think in a connected order, and thus curb 
the erratic and capricious action of the imagination. 
So, too, we may protect ourselves very much against 
the disturbing influences of external objects by proper 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 47 

external arrangements. When we engage in anything 
requiring close attention, we should not leave ourselves 
at the mercy of any one of ten thousand influences, by 
undertaking it in the midst of the distractions of busi- 
ness, of society, or even of the family circle. * All the 
more difficult and protracted mental efforts require re- 
tirement. Thus, and thus only, can the attention be 
preserved long enough to carry them through. 

6. We should so order our occupations that surround- 
ing influences may promote attention to them. — Another 
means of controlling our attention is, so to order our 
pursuits, as to always have something for our chief 
object of attention, of such a nature that the surround- 
ing influences will tend to promote its prosecution, or 
at least not be adverse to it. As we should think, in- 
vestigate principles, and examine books in the study 
so we should study human nature in society, works of 
art in travel, and objects of Nature out among her 
works. Thus the mind will always be kept wakeful, 
and exert itself to the best advantage. 

7. Reflection as distinguished from attention, — Thus 
much of attention. And the same applies to Reflec- 
tion^ v/hich is merely attention directed to mental phe- 
nomena. Or more strictly, reflection is attention di- 
rected to some truth, principle, mental state or act, for 
the purpose of r^-examining it. As a mere passing 
phenomenon, a mental act, or state, is more commonly 
spoken of as an object of attention, — as when we say 
to one, " Attend now to what is passing in your mind." 
But when we think of the act again, and examine its 
character, it is properly called reflection. 

8. No extended remarks needed on reflection. — As all 
that has been said of attention, and the means of im- 



48 . INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

proving it, applies equally to reflection, it need only be 
added here, that the power of reflection is particularly 
required in psychological studies. Psychology rests 
wholly on the observed facts of consciousness; and 
hence, the whole success of the student of this science 
depends upon his power of internal observation, — 
upon his ability to seize upon and examine the delicate 
machinery and fleeting thoughts of his own mind. It 
is a power not easily acquired ; but, difficult of acquisi- 
tion as it is, it may be gradually gained by persevering 
efforts. And a power so valuable will abundantly re- 
pay all the effort which it costs. 



CHAPTER III. 

PERCEPTION. 
SECTION I. 
THEORIES OF PERCEPTION. , 

1. Grounds of the different theories. — As already re- 
marked, the general fact of perception as revealed in 
consciousness, embraces two elements, the conscious- 
ness of a knowing self and of an object known, distinct 
from self, and of the latter quite as distinctly as of the 
former. Now we may either accept this fact just as it 
stands, as establishing the existence of a knowing sub- 
ject and known objects distinct from it ; or we may 
take the consciousness and its object as only modifica- 
tions of the same common substance ; or we may sup- 
pose the object to be merely a supernatural, or self-lim- 
iting, form of consciousness : or, on the contrary, that 
consciousness is only a modification of the object; or 
we may deny a substantive existence to both subject 
and object, — regarding them alike as mere phenomena ; 
or we may regard the consciousness of external objects 
as only representative, not real, and yet hope to estab- 
lish the existence of the external object by other means. 
Thus there may be, and actually have been, six difier- 
ent theories of perception. 

2. The realistic theory. — The first theory holds to a 
real knowledge of both subject and object in percep- 

5 



50 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

tion, and is variously denominated, Realism, Natural 
Realism, or Natural Dualism. As consciousness re- 
ports an actual tknowledge of external objects in per- 
ception, quite as distinctly as of an internal knowing 
subject, realism receives both elements as standing on 
precisely the same footing, the one as readily as the 
other. And while it does not profess to explain pre- 
cisely how the external element is reached in perception, 
still, it holds it to be quite conceivable, that, through 
the medium of the body, outward objects may be 
brought into such relation to the mind, as to be actu- 
ally apprehended in certain of their qualities. 

3. Vieif) of perception taken by this theory. — Accord- 
ingly, realism holds that external objects are immedi- 
ately perceived through resistance^ and that, in the ex- 
ercise of the senses proper, the impressions made upon 
the organs by external objects, are not mere arbitrary oc- 
casions of the perceptions which ensue, but constitute 
particular affections of the organs, which are directly 
apprehended by the mind, and through these, the ex- 
ternal objects themselves. The mind is conceived as 
so connected with the organism,* either in its whole 
extent, or at its central terminations in the brain, as to 
be itself actually affected or modified by the affection of 
the organ, and hence becoming directly conscious of 
the organ as extended, and through this, of the ex- 



^ Mind and matter being characterized by entirely different qualities, it 
is difl&cult to conceive them as brought into such connection with each 
other, that an affection of the one shall, at the same time, be an affection 
or perception of the other. But there is no greater difficulty in this re- 
spect, on the realistic view, than on any other view which does not merge 
mind and matter in one, and then there spring up difficulties of a differ- 
ent nature, and far more formidable. 



PERCEPTION. 51 

tended object itself. Thus the apparent knowledge 
which we have of external objects is based upon act- 
ual perception, and is therefore real. 

4. This the only theory which admits all the facts of 
consciousness. — This is the only theory which does not 
mutilate consciousness, but receives all the elements 
just as they are presented. This was, intentionally at 
least, the theory of Dr. Reid, and his followers of the 
Scottish School of Philosophy, and has been clearly de- 
veloped and expounded anew, with surpassing ability, 
by the latest and most distinguished disciple of that 
School — Sir W. Hamilton. This theory, as on the whole 
the safest and most consistent, though not without its 
difficulties, is the one adopted in the present treatise. 

5. The theory of absolute identity. — The second 
scheme of perception, is what goes under the name of 
the theory of Absolute Identity, and is, briefly, panthe- 
ism. According to this system, mind and matter, God 
and nature, are one and the same substance. Or, to 
state the case more accurately, there is but one sub- 
stance in existence, which manifests itself under the 
two different attributes of thought and extension^ consti- 
tuting consciousness and its object. Mind and matter, 
therefore, are but phenomenal modifications of the one 
absolute substance, which has been variously denomi- 
nated, by the philosophers of this school, God or Na- 
ture. Consciousness, then, is but the thought of God 
(or Nature) Apprehending or employed about his ex- 
tension. On this theory, therefore, there is no proper 
perception ; but the one all-pervading and all-constifcut- 
ing substance is merely conscious, at separate centres, 
of counter forms of itself. This is the celebrated sys- 
tem of Spinoza, and under different and more subtle 



52 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

forms, of Schelling and Hegel, — in whom, especially 
the latter, it runs virtually into nihilism. 

6. This theory does violence to consciousness. — I 
need not say, that this theory does violence to all the 
facts'of consciousness, both in perception and all the 
experience of life. Consciousness testifies to a perceiv- 
ing subject and a perceived object, as distinct and as 
strongly contrasted with each other as two things pos- 
sibly can be. Consciousness, also, testifies to our person- 
ality, freedom, and responsibility ; but pantheism is the 
most adamantine system of fatalism ever conceived. 
However plausible the system may appear, from its sim- 
plicity and logical coherence, it is too directly in con- 
flict with consciousness, and too rnonstrous in the conse- 
quences to which it leads, ever to be generally received. 

7. The ideal theory. — The third theory is called 
Idealism, and makes perception merely the apprehen- 
sion of ideas or thoughts of the mind. It accounts for 
the origin of these ideas in the mind in various ways, 
as by the action of a constitutional law, by the immedi- 
ate agency of God, or some other supernatural agency; 
or else it regards them as merely self-limiting forms of 
the consciousness itself. This system annihilates the 
external world, and converts it into an internal world 
of mere sensations, ideas, thoughts, etc. It is most 
fully and consistently developed by Bishop Berkeley, 
Arthur Collier, and Fichte. 

8. Criticism of this theory. — That we are conscious 
of objects as external^ no one can deny, or possibly be- 
lieve that they are not really so. The idealist, assuming 
that perception must necessarily be representative, and 
human knowledge be wholly confined to our mental 
representations (i.e., virtually begging the whole ques- 



PERCEPTION. 53 

tion), may logically prove that no external world can 
ever be perceived, and hence that its existence is a mere 
assumption. But this proof produces no conviction, 
either in himself or others. The mind can never rest 
in such a conclusion. It violates the positive and 
most decisive testimony of consciousness, which cannot 
be at fault, though logic may be. If the experience 
of life is indeed ideal, consciousness, surely, is a most 
unveracious principle. Life can be made ideal only 
by a constant translation, and a translation effected by 
a most forced interpretation. Life done into idealism 
is a strange and unknown tongue, to the last degree 
absurd and ridiculous. * 

9. Materialism. — The fourth theory makes thought 
but a quality or function of matter, and is therefore 
denominated Materialism. This " dirt philosophy " (as 
Fichte aptly styles it) we can hardly suppose any well- 
instructed person, at the present day, in danger of 
adopting. Our material body is unquestionably a me- 
dium of communication for the spirit with the external 
world, and perception is somehow carried on through 
it. Indeed, the mechanical part, or the antecedents, 
of perception, may be traced up several steps through 
the mechanism of the body, but not so that we can 
see exactly where thought emerges, — certainly not so 
that we discover it to emerge from any part of the or- 
ganism. Indeed, it is clearly impossible for us even to 
conceive that thought is a function or phenomenon of 
matter. That matter, of itself, feels, perceives, remem- 
bers, thinks, and wills, we can neither believe nor even 
imagine. 

^ On this point, see an article by the author, on Hume's Philosophy , in 
the April No. of the Christian Review, 1855. 

5* 



54 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

10. Nihilism. — The fifth theory has been denomi- 
nated Nihilism, since it denies all substantive existence, 
whether material or spiritual, and leaves nothing but 
impressions, ideas, thoughts, etc. The existence of va- 
rious states of consciousness it cannot doubt, for doubt- 
ing is itself a state of consciousness, and hence proves 
the existence of what it doubts. It is allowed that we 
directly apprehend, whether of matter or mind, nothing 
beyond their qualities or manifestations. * But, as we 
have already seen (chap. 2, sec. 3, i. 6), by a necessary 
law of thought imposed upon us by our Maker, we 
cannot think of qualities or states except as relative to 
some subject to which they belong. This theory, there- 
fore, errs in disregarding an important primary truth 
of consciousness, q,s some of the preceding do in disre- 
garding facts of consciousness. The theory is the most 
rigidly carried out by Hume and Hegel, — by the for- 
mer in a sceptical, and by the latter in a dogmatic, 
way. 

11. Hypothetical realism. — The sixth and last the- 
ory has received different designations, according to the 
point of view under which it is considered. It has 
been called Cosmothetic Idealism, as assuming the 
cosmos^ or external world, while it holds, with ideal- 
ism^ to a direct knowledge, in perception, of only an 
internal representation or thought. Again, it has 
been called Hypothetical Realism, or Hypothetical 
Dualism, because it holds to the real existence of both 

^ This is the almost universally admitted view of philosophers, and I do 
not see how any other view can be maintained. But Mr. Mansel, unques- 
tionably one of the most learned and acute metaphysicians of the age, 
holds to an actual consciousness of self, as a substantive existence. See 
his Prolegomena Logica^ p. 153. 



PERCEPTION. 55 

mind and matter,' but, not holding to a direct percept- 
tion of the external world, it endeavors to establish its 
existence hy \^x\o\xs hypotheses. 

12. Criticism of this theory. — There is, therefore, 
the same objection to this theory, on one side, that there 
is to the ideal theory, — that it rejects the entire objec- 
tive element reported in consciousness, and puts in its 
place mere thoughts, or mental representations, which 
no one is conscious of in perception. At the same 
time, the assumption of the existence of an external 
world is unwarranted. While the theory denies the 
direct perception of an external world, although we be- 
lieve that we are conscious of external objects in per- 
ception, it confidently asserts the existence of that world, 
because ive can but believe in its existence. But our 
belief in the existence of external objects certainly is 
not clearer or stronger than our belief that we are con- 
scions of them in perception; how, then, are we to 
know, if one belief is delusive, that the other is not de- 
lusive also ? It is surely the height of absurdity for 
one who denies the authority of the one belief, to assert 
the validity of the other. Besides, how can the mind, 
if it actually knows nothing of external objects, be sup- 
posed correctly to represent them in perception ? 



SECTION II. 
WHAT WE PERCEIVE. 



1. We do not directly perceive either matter or mind. 
— As already more than once stated, we do not directly 
perceive either matter or mind in its essence. We 
know nothing of the absolute essence or nature of 



56 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

either. All that we perceive in matter, is, the various 
qualities, and all that we are conscious of in mind, is, 
its different states and acts. And even these quali- 
ties and states we do not know absolutely, but only 
relatively^ i.e., relatively to our faculties ; in other words, 
we know them only as they appear to us. For aught 
we know, they may, in themselves, be quite different 
from what they appear to us to be, though there is al- 
ways a strong presumption that our perceptions con- 
vey to us correct information of things, — that, as far 
as they go, they accord with the reality. 

2. But consciousness always reveals itself as personal. 
— It is a remark of Cicero, that " the mind, like the 
eye, seeing other things, sees not itself." Conscious- 
ness, as far as absolutely known to us, is a mere phe- 
nomenon, a cognizance of what is going on within a 
given sphere, but not of the nature of that sphere. Con- 
sciousness reports nothing, either of the mind or of the 
organism by which it is enclosed, except their affections 
or modifications. And yet, consciousness always re- 
veals itself as personal. It always says, " I think,'' " I 
feel," etc., and not, " there is a thought," " there is a 
feeling," and the like. Here the J is but the substratum, 
which, from the necessities of thought, we place under 
consciousness. Consciousness cannot be thought of, 
or expressed, as independent of a conscious subject. 
Hence, though we are not directly conscious of any 
thing more than the affections of self, we necessarily 
assume for ourselves a substantive existence. 

3. In like manner we perceive nothing of matter but 
its qualities. — So too of matter, while, by a necessity 
of thought, we assume for it a substantive existence, 
we directly perceive nothing but its qualities. It be- 



PERCEPTION. 57 

comes important, therefore, to know what these quali- 
ties are, and how far we know them. The properties 
of matter have usually been distributed into two 
classes, called Primary and Secondary Qualities. To 
these Sir W. Hamilton has added a third class, which, 
as being somewhat intermediate between the other two 
classes, he calls Secundo-primary Qualities. 

4. Primary qualities of matter, — These are Exten- 
sion, and the subordinate qualities implied in it, as 
Divisibility, Size, Density or Rarity, Impenetrability, 
and Figure. Besides, as objects exist in space, which 
is also extended, they are susceptible of Motion, and 
Situation, which are sometimes called qualities of mat- 
ter. 

5. Secondary qualities. — These are the occult pow- 
ers, or properties, of matter, which are supposed to pro- 
duce various affections of our sentient organism ; such 
as Color, Sound, Flavor, Savor, Heat, Electricity, Gal- 
vanism, and the various causes of the different bodily 
sensations and feelings of pleasure and pain. These 
properties, or powers, are not directly perceived or 
known in themselves, but only inferred, as the supposed 
causes of various affections produced in us by external 
objects. Indeed, as apprehended, they are only subjec- 
tive affections of our sensitive organism, and hence these 
affections pass by the same name as their supposed 
causes. 

6. Secundo-primary qualities. — In the words of 
Hamilton, " The Secundo-primary qualities of matter 
have always two phases, both immediately apprehended. 
On their primary or objective phasis, they manifest 
themselves as degrees of resistance opposed to our 
locomotive energy; on their secondary or subjective 



58 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 






phasis, as modes of resistance or pressure affecting our 
sentient organism. Considered physically^ or in an ob- 
jective relation, the secundo-primary qualities are to be 
reduced to classes corresponding to the different sources 
in external nature from which the resistance or pressure 
springs, which are three : Co-attraction, Repulsion, and 
Inertia." 

7. Remarks of Hamilton on these qualities. — Fur- 
ther to illustrate the character of these qualities and 
their relations, both in themselves and as perceived and 
thought, I select from the same distinguished author, 
who has treated the subject in a most exhaustive man- 
ner in an Appendix to Dr. Reid^s works, the following 
observations from many more of the same sort : — 

(1.) "The Primary are less properly denominated 
Qualities (suchnesses), and deserve the name only as we 
conceive them to distinguish body from not-body — cor- 
poreal from incorporeal substance. They are thus merely 
the attributes of body as body. The Secundo-primary 
and Secondary, on the contrary, are in strict propriety 
Qualities, for they discriminate body from body. They 
are the attributes of body as this or that sort of body. 

(2.) " The Primary arise from the universal relations 
of body to itself; the Secundo-primary from the gen- 
eral relations of this body to that ; the Secondary, from 
special relations of this kind of body to this kind of 
animated or sentient organism. 

(3.) " The Primary determine the possibility of mat- 
ter absolutely ; the Secundo-primary, the possibility of 
the material universe as actually constituted ; the Sec- 
ondary, the possibility of our relations as sentient ex- 
istences to that universe. 

(4.) " Under the Primary we apprehend modes of the 



PERCEPTION. 59 

not-self; under the Secundo-primary we apprehend 
modes both of the self and the not-self; under the 
Secondary we apprehend modes of the self, and infer 
modes of the not-self. 

(5.) " The Primary are apprehended as they are in 
bodies ; the Secondary as they are in us ; the Secundo- 
primary as they are in bodies and as they are in us. 

(6.) " The term quality in general, and the names of 
the several qualities in particular, are, in the case of 
the Primary, univocal, one designation unambiguously 
marking out one quality ; in the case of the Secundo- 
primary and Secondary, equivocal, a single term being 
ambiguously applied to denote two qualities, distinct 
though correlative — that, to wit, which is a mode of 
existence in bodies, and that which is a mode or affec- 
tion in our organism. * 

(7.) " The Primary are qualities of body in relation 
to our organism, as a body simply ; the Secundo-pri- 
mary are the qualities of body in relation to our organ- 
ism, as a propelling, resisting, cohesive body ; the sec- 
ondary are the qualities of body in relation to our 
organism, as an idiopathically excitable or sentient 
body. 

(8.) " The Primary are apprehended objects ; the 
Secondary, inferred powers ; the Secundo-primary, both 
apprehended objects and inferred powers. 

' (9.) " The Primary may be roundly characterized as 
mathematical; the Secundo-primary as mechanical; 
the Secondary as physiological. 

(10.) " Using the terms strictly, the apprehensions of 
the Primary are perceptions, not sensations ; of the 

^ As for instance, hardness, heat, color, etc., which denote both the or- 
ganic sensation and the external cause. 



60 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Secondary, sensations, not perceptions ; of the Secun- 
do-primary, perceptions and sensations together. 

(11.) " In the apprehension of the Primary qualities, 
the mind is primarily and principally active ; it feels 
as it knows. In that of the Secondary, the mind is 
primarily and principally passive ; it knows only as 
it feels. In that of the Secundo-primary, the mind 
is equally and at once active and passive ; in one re- 
spect it feels as it knows, in another, it knows as it 
feels. 

(12.) " In the Primary, a sensation of organic affec- 
tion is the condition of perception, a mental apprehen- 
sion ; in the Secundo-primary, a sensation is the con- 
comitant of the perception ; in the Secondary, a sensation 
is the all-in-all which the consciousness apprehends. 

(13.) " All the senses, simply or in combination, af- 
ford conditions for the perception of the Primary 
qualities ; and all, of course, supply the sensations of 
the Secondary. As only various modifications of re- 
sistance, the Secundo-primary qualities are all, as per- 
cepts proper, as quasi-primary qualities, apprehended 
through the locomotive faculty, and our consciousness 
of its energy; as sensations, as secondary qualities, 
they are apprehended as modifications of touch proper, 
and of cutaneous and muscular feeling. 

(14.) " As modes of matter, the Primary are thought 
as necessary and universal ; the Secundo-primary as 
contingent and common ; the Secondary as contingent 
and peculiar. 

(15.) " The apprehension of a Primary quality is 
principally an intellectual cognition, in so far as it is, 
in itself, a pure mental activity, and not a mere sensa- 
tion of an organic passion ; and secondarily, a sensible 



PERCEPTION. 61 

cognition, in so far as it is the perception of an attri- 
bute of matter,' and, though not constituted by, still not 
realized without, the sensation of an organic passion. 
The apprehension of a Secondary quality is solely a 
sensible cognition ; for it is nothing but the sensation 
of an organic passion. The apprehension of a Secun- 
do-primary quality is, equally and at once, an intellec- 
tual and sensible cognition ; for it involves both the 
perception of a quasi-primary quality, and the sensation 
of a secondary." 



SECTION III. 
HOW WE PERCEIVE. 



1. Wliat is here aimed at. — I do not, of course, ex- 
pect to be able to trace perception up to its crisis, and 
determine exactly the nature, or very precisely even, the 
manner of the act. My object simply is, to describe as 
accurately as possible the conditions and antecedents 
of the act, as far as known, — to give a criticised ac- 
count of perception. Perception is not wholly arbi- 
trary in its nature ; it has fixed and unvarying condi- 
tions, and certain outward and mechanical antecedents, 
all of which may be known and should be stated. 
This is all that is here attempted. 

2. Perception through resistance, — The body is the 
medium of the mind in perception, and nothing exter- 
nal can be apprehended by the mind except in or 
through this medium. The mind and its object are 
brought most directly face to face through resistance ; 
but, to say nothing of the organic feelings which 3C- 

6 



62 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

company resistance and certify the fact, we could not 
be resisted or arrested by external objects, without a 
material body. But having such a material organism, 
and having also the power of changing place in all direc- 
tions, and with all our limbs, we are capable of being 
arrested by external objects, and of knowing that we 
are thus arrested. When our limbs obey our wills and 
move in accordance with our purpose, we are always 
conscious of it, and equally so, of course, when their 
motion is arrested. In such a case, then, knowing that 
the limb is obedient to our will, we know that it is not 
arrested by any thing within our organism, but by some- 
thing without that organism. Here, then, we become 
directly and at the same time conscious of a self and 
a not-self, standing face to face with each other ; so 
that both enter as correlative elements into one con- 
scious act, and are equally essential in constituting it. 
This is strictly an immediate perception, or intuition. 

3. The perception of resistance implies a resisting 
object. — And if it be said, that all which is really per- 
ceived in such a case, is resistance from without^ it is 
admitted, that, in strictness, this is so. As already re- 
peatedly stated, nothing but qualities is directly per- 
ceived in any case. But it *has also been repeatedly 
stated, that we cannot think of qualities alone. The 
moment, therefore, that we become conscious of a re- 
sistance from without, we assume, by a necessity of 
thought, that this resistance resides in an object, which 
is also external to us. Indeed, a quality and its subject 
of inhesion are so entirely relative, that they always 
come into the mind together. Resistance is all the 
same to us as a resisting object. 



PEBCEPTION. 63 

4. la perception bij sense the object must be vnthin the 
sphere of sense. — In even a more intimate and impor- 
tant sense, the body is the medium of the mind in per- 
ception by the senses proper. It is an indispensable 
condition to all perception by the senses, that the ob- 
ject perceived should be within the sphere of sense. 
By this I mean, that every object, in order to be per- 
ceived, must be brought into direct physical connection 
with the organ of sense to which it is addressed. In 
perception by Touch, there must be an actual contact 
of the object v/ith some part of the surface of the body; 
in perception by Sight, an actual impinging of the rays 
of light from an object upon the retina of the eye; in 
perception by Hearing, an actual impinging of vibra- 
tions upon the tympanum of the ear ; in that by Smell, 
an actual diffusion of effluvia upon the olfactory nerve ; 
and in that by Taste, an actual solution of a sapid sub- 
stance upon the tongue and fauces. 

5. Kerrjirk of Hamilton. — In the language of Ham- 
ilton : * " This distinction of a medtate and immediate 
object, or of an object and a medium, in perception, is 
inaccurate and a source of sad confusion. We per- 
ceive, and can perceive, nothing but what is in relation 
to the organ, and nothing is in relation to the organ 
that is not present to it. All the senses are, in fact, 
modifications of touchy as Democritus of old taught." 

6. There is an actual modification of the organ in 
perception. — There is, then, in all cases of perception 
by the senses, and as an indispensable condition to the 
act, an actual modification of the organ by the presence 
or contact of the object perceived. The organ is al- 
ways affected or changed by the presence of something 

* Dr. Eeid's AVorks, p. 247. 



64 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

foreign to it. In sight, for instance, there is an actual 
image of the object formed upon the retina of the eye, 
which, of course, produces a modification or change in 
the organ. And so in perception by the other senses, 
there is always some modification of the organ, accord- 
ing to the physical action required in the case. 

7. . It is uncertain whether this modification extends 
beyond the surface. — That there is, in perception, any 
change in the organ beyond the surface, has never, so 
far as I am aware, been established by actual observa- 
tion or experiment. But it has generally been supposed 
that there is, and various theories have been suggested 
as to the manner in which impressions of external ob- 
jects are borne in to the mind — supposed to be situ- 
ated in the brain — along the nerves ; such as the the- 
ory of vibrations in the substance of the nerves, the 
flow of animal spirits, or of some general nervous 
agent, through or along the nerves, the influx of actual 
representative fllms, or forms, or species, from without. 
These, however, are mere hypotheses, some of them 
utterly inconceivable, and none of them established by 
experiment. Besides, the assumption that the mind is 
confined to the centre of the organism, in the brain, 
and hence needs some intermediate agent to keep up 
the communication with the surface, is not established 
beyond dispute. Arguments are presented both for 
and against the view. 

8. Arguments for a special sensorium at the centre. — 
The chief reasons for assuming a special sensorium, or 
presence-chamber of the mind, at the centre of the or- 
ganism, are these: First, it is found that if the nerve 
leading from any organ or part of the body to the brain 
be severed or materially injured, no sensation or per- 






PERCEPTION. 65 

ception ensues on the approach or contact of an exter- 
nal object with that part. Secondly, if a limb be am- 
putated, and the extremity of the nerve where the 
amputation is made be irritated, or if a nerve be irri- 
tated at any point between the centre and the surface, 
the sensation is felt as if at the natural extremity, which 
seems to indicate, that the localizing of our sensations 
in the organs is the result of habit. Thirdly, that if the 
mind is present in all parts of the organism, then, in 
losing a part of the body, we lose, also, a part of the 
mind. But this last reason, and perhaps the first, it 
may be remarked, are really arguments against a per- 
manent connection of the mind with all parts of the 
organism, rather than against the view, which is en-^ 
tirely sufficient for the case, that the mind traverses all 
parts of the organism. 

9. Arguments for the presence of the mind in all parts 
of the organism, — Against the notion that the mind is 
wholly confined to the centre of the organism, it is ar- 
gued : First, that in perception by the senses, there is 
no consciousness of any affection, whether mental or 
physical, except at the surface. That as we confess- 
edly, and consciously, think, or combine our thoughts, 
at the centre, in the head, we as obviously feel, taste, 
hear, smell, and see, or at least, experience, the sensa- 
tions on which these perceptions depend, at the surface. 
The consciousness of action at the surface in the latter 
cases — or most of them, at least — is as clear as the 
consciousness of action at the centre, in the other. Sec- 
ondly, that if sensations are not directly experienced 
by the mind present in the organs, they are only arbi- 
trarily referred to the surface, and then, how does it 
happen that they are always referred to that part, 



66 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

whether external or internal, where there is an actual 
organic affection ? Thirdly, that the connection of the 
mind with the organism, whether at the centre or in its 
whole extent, is equally mysterious, and is attended 
with scarcely less difficulties in the one case than in the 
other. And fourthly, that unless the mind is so con- 
nected with the organism, that the affections of the lat- 
ter, at some point, determine corresponding mental af- 
fections — making sensations equally organic and 
mental affections — no veritable perception of external 
objects can ever be reached through the senses, but we 
are merely excited by certain motions, or presentations, 
in the organism, to think of or conceive them. 

10. A somewhat intermediate view the best. — On the 
whole, perhaps the assumption of an extended senso- 
rium (as it must necessarily be), embracing the central 
termini of the nervous system, in which the mind is so 
present to these terminations as to be itself affected by 
the affections which they suffer^ is attended with the 
fewest difficulties. For, in this case, there is a real 
perception of an extended organism at its central ter- 
minations, and through this, of extended objects ; while 
the reference of sensations to the surface, is, perhaps, 
only a consequence of that perceived outness of parts 
involved in every conscious affection of the organism 
at its radiating centre. 

11. Sensation and perception. — The consciousness 
which we thus have of the affection of an organ, is 
commonly called a seyisation. But as sensations reveal 
themselves as out of each other, in the experience of 
sensations we become conscious of extension, which is 
a real perception, though not extending to the external 
cause of the sensations. Direct perception by the 



PERCEPTION. 67 

senses proper^ is wholly confined to the organism. By 
means of the organic affections received through the 
different senses, we become directly conscious of our 
organism as extended ; and then, this being once known 
as extended, we come to infer extension in bodies 
known to be external to us through resistance. For, as 
these external bodies are found to affect different points 
of our extended organism, we infer that they also are 
extended. And so, too, we infer the existence of the 
secondary qualities of matter from the effects which they 
produce upon our organism. Thus it is that we make 
our way out into the world through perception. 



SECTION IT. 
PERCEPTION BY THE DLFFERENT SENSES. 

I. TOUCH (feeling, PAIN, MUSCULAR SENSe). 

1. Definitions of touchy feelings etc. — The sensation 
caused by bringing an external object gently into con- 
tact with the skin is called touch; the more internal and 
subjective sensation caused by the pressure of the ob- 
ject touched, or other causes, is caWcd feeling'; while that 
occasioned by the violent contact of an external object, 
or by any injury of the tissues of the body, or by inter- 
nal or external disease, is called pain. The Muscular 
Sense, sometimes called the active sense^ embraces- the 
sensations felt in the muscles when exerted in over- 
coming resistance. Besides these general sensations, 
there are other peculiar and occasional feelings, caused 
by local or special stimuli, such as those felt in sneezing, 
shuddering, or from the effects of fear, heat, cold, etc. 



68 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

2. The seat of these various sensations, — All these dif- 
ferent sensations have their seat in the nerves of touch 
or feelings which proceeding from the brain and spinal 
chord, are distributed to all parts of the body, and branch- 
ing out into innumerable minute filaments as they ap- 
proach the surface, protrude themselves through the 
skin to the cuticle, in the form ofpapillce, or little prom- 
inences, with varying degrees of proximity to each 
other in different parts of the body, but at minutely 
small distances in all parts. All the proper feeling ex- 
perienced in any part of the system, even in the use of 
the other senses, is yielded by this class of nerves. The 
nerves of each sense yield but a single class of sensa- 
tions, whatever be the stimulus applied ; as we learn, 
in the case of sight, by pressing upon the eye, when we 
are conscious of the sensation of color, as if the organ 
were under the stimulus of light. So our nerves of 
touch yield nothing but feeling, and yield all the feel- 
ing of which we are conscious. 

3. The experience of which we are susceptible through 
this sense, — If all the various sensations which have 
their seat in the nerves of feeling be grouped together 
under the sense of touch, as they more commonly are, 
we are susceptible of a more varied experience through 
this sense, than through any other. Its sensations fur- 
nish more obtrusively than those of the other senses, the 
conditions for perceiving extension in our own organ- 
ism and inferring it in external objects, while through 
the feeling of resistance we become directly conscious 
of external objects. It is through the nerves pertaining 
to this sense, also, that we experience the sensations 
of heat and cold, of the healthy and diseased action of 
all the organs, of disorganization, of injury done to 



PERCEPTION. 69 

any part of the body, and various other sensations so 
essential to our comfort or preservation. 

4. The hand the most important organ of this sense. 
— The hand is the most important organ of this sense^ 
as well on account of its delicate sensibility to external 
objects, as on account of the freedorn of its motions and 
its adaptedness to grasping and thus ascertaining the 
form of objects. The blind man, by passing his fingers 
over the lines of a book printed in raised letters, reads 
almost as readily and rapidly as one does by sight. 
But while the form of small objects which can be 
grasped, or are easily compassed by the motion of the 
hand, is very readily determined by touch, it is very 
difficult, if not impossible, to ascertain the form of 
large objects by this sense alone. The form of such 
bodies is more readily learned by sight, through its ac- 
quired powers. 

II. TASTE. 

1. The organ of this sense. — The tongue is the or- 
gan of taste, the skin of which, at innumerable points, 
is pierced to the mucous membrane by minute fila- 
ments of the gustatory nerve^ producing the little 
prominences, or papillce^ which are plainly discernible 
all over its surface, but especially on the tip, edges, and 
near the root. Although this organ, like all other 
organs and parts of the body, is supplied with nerves 
of feeling, it is the gustatory nerve alone which is sus- 
ceptible of the distinctive sensation of taste. As it is 
necessary that the substance should be diffused over 
the organ and be brought into close connection with 
the terminations of the nervous filaments, in order that 
it be tasted, only such substances as are soluble in the 



70 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



I 



saliva affect the sense ; and hence, while the mouth is 
furnished with teeth for crushing substances, the tongue 
is surrounded by the salivary glands which secrete this 
fluid. Hence it is, that if from any cause the saliva 
is scantily furnished, or the tongue becomes coated so 
as to cover the papillce to any considerable depth, the 
taste, for the time being, is greatly injured or destroyed. 

2. A taste is a mere sensation. — Taste is a mere sen- 
sation, and conveys to us directly no knowledge of its 
cause. As, however, we soon learn that the sensation 
arises only when certain substances are placed in the 
mouth, we infer that these are the cause of it. But 
what the particular property in objects is which causes 
the sensation, at least in its nature, is still unknown. 
As a mere subjective sensation yielding no perception 

of an external extended object, a taste involves but few A 
physical elements, — barely those embraced in the physi- I 
cal changes produced in the mouth by the substance ^ 
' tasted. But even these are often sufficient to afford 
the ground for a description of it, and are always pres- 
ent to the mind in recalling the sensation. In recalling 
tastes, v/e often smack the lips, or spit, as though re- 
jecting something offensive from*the mouth, in evident 
allusion to the impression which they originally made 
upon this organ. 

3. Taste as a test of wliolesomenesB. — Whatever is 
taken into the mouth and has an agreeable taste, we 
have a disposition to swallow, while we involuntarily 
reject whatever has a disagreeable taste. However, 
the taste of substances is but a poor test of their 
wholesomeness. Some of the most deadly' poisons^ as, 
for instance, arsenic, are sweet and agreeable to the 
taste, while most of the useful medicines are very offen- 



PERCEPTION. 71 

sive to the taste. And even of articles of food, it is 
not always those which are the most agreeable to the 
taste that are the most healthful. It is only by experi- 
ence that we learn what is hurtful to be eaten, and hav- 
ing learned this, the other senses enable us, without re- 
sorting to taste, to recognize, on their recurrence, arti- 
cles which have been found to be of this character, as 
well as those which have been found to be of an oppo- 
site character. 

III. SMELL. 

1. The organ of this sense, — The nose is the organ 
of smell, in the back part of which are situated the tur- 
binated bones^ which consist of thin convoluted plates, 
like a piece of crimped paper, exposing a large surface 
in a small space. Over these bones is spread the olfac- 
tory nerve^ in which resides the susceptibility to odors ; 
and this, again, is covered by the mucous membrane 
which lines the nose and mouth, and secretes the mu- 
cus necessary to keep the surface soft and in a condi- 
tion favorable to perception. An organ thus situated 
and constructed, can be reached by external objects 
only through minute particles thrown off from them, 
and borne through the air to the interior of the nose. 
Hence only those substances are odoriferous which are 
capable of throwing off such particles. 

2. Smell is a mere sensation. — Smell, like taste, is 
a mere sensation, conveying no direct knowledge of its 
cause. The cause is discovered only by experience. 
By observing that the presence of certain objects is ac- 
companied by the sensations of smell, we infer that 
these sensations are somehow caused by these objects. 
On further examination, we learn that particles of the 



72 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

substance smelled, called effluvia^ are actually present 
in the air, and must be drawn into the nostrils with 
every inspiration of the breath. We conclude, there- 
fore, that these substances cause the sensations by 
throwing off particles into the surrounding air, which by 
due process are brought into contact with the organ. ^ 
As to the physical character of the sensation, and its 
capability of being recalled in memory, much the same 
may be said as in the case of taste. We often recall 
an agreeable or disagreeable odor so vividly, as to seem 
now to be smelling it, and snuff or snort with the nose 
as an indication of our conception of its character. 

3. Importance of the sense, — Smell is an important 
^sense, not only as assisting in determining what is 
wholesome to be taken into the system (and for this 
reason, as remarked by Socrates of old, placed near the 
inouth), but also, on account of its informing us of the 
existence of objects at a distance, out of the reach or 
xange of the other senses, or inappreciable by them. It 
thus greatly enlarges the boundary of our knowledge of 
external things. 

IV. SIGHT OR VISION. 

1. The organ of this sense. — The eye is the organ 
of sight. The rays of light proceeding from an object, 
on reaching the eye, first pass through the cornea and 
aqueous humor ^ and are admitted into the chamber of 
the eye through a small opening in the iris^ called the 
pupiL From this point the rays pass on through the 
^crystalRne lens and the vitreous humor to the retina^ 
ivhich is a fine network expansion of the optic nerve ^ 
embedded in the black pigment of the choroid coatings in 
the back part of the eye. The rays of light from the 



PERCEPTION. 73 

different parts of an object proceeding in straight lines 
cross each other on their entrance at the pupil, and 
slightly refracted, or bent inwards, in their progress 
through the eye, form a diminished and inverted picture 
of the object on the retina. 

2. Conditions of vision. — The susceptibility of 
sight resides in the retina, and all that is required for 
producing perfect vision in a sound eye, is, that a given 
amount of light should proceed from an object and be 
formed into a distinct image upon the retina. To se- 
cure this, the eye has certain powers of adjustment, 
such as contracting and expanding the pupil, in order 
to let in less or more light, and perhaps, of changing the 
form or the position of the crystalline lens, so as to se- 
cure the distinctness of the image. These powers of 
adjustment, however, are quite limited. A great excess 
or deficiency of light, or an unusual convexity or flat- 
ness of the eye, cannot be remedied by any power of 
adjustment which it possesses, though the latter defect 
may be in certain cases by external appliances, as by 
concave or convex glasses. 

3. What vision is, — Our consciousness of an affec- 
tion of the optic nerve is vision, just as our conscious- 
ness of an affection of the gustatory nerve is taste. 
The light falling upan the retina from an object pro- 
duces in it a certain change or modification, varying in 
the different parts of the nervous expanse, according to 
the quality and quantity of the rays, and this affection 
reveals itself as a pictured outline. That the organ is 
thus affected we know from observation, and that it is 
this organic affection of which we are directly con- 
scious, and not the external colored objects, is evident 
from various considerations, and especially from the 

7 




74 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

fact, that light proceeds from a body to the eye, and is 
seen, and can be seen, only when it reaches the eye ; 
i.e., it is nothing to us till it becomes an organic affec- 
tion. Hence, sight or vision, in the first instance, and 
without the elements derived from experience, is simply 
the consciousness of an affection of the visual organ. ^ , 

4. Color ^ as apprehended by us^ is a mere sensation. — * 
Consequently, color, as far as it is directly apprehended 

by us, is a mere sensation. It is merely the recognition 
in our organism of an extended nervous expanse as 
colored. As to the nature and character of a sensa- 
tion so elusive and so much under dispute among phi- 
losophers, I gladly avail myself of the following clear, 
and, to me at least, satisfactory, statement of Sir W. 
Hamilton * on the suj)ject. 

5. Remarks of Hamilton, — "I hold that color, in 
itself, as apprehended, or immediately known to us, is 
a mere affection of the nervous organism ; and there- 
fore, like the other secondary qualities, an object, not 
of perception, but of sensation proper. The only dis- 
tinguishing peculiarity in this case, lies in the three 
following circumstances : — 

" (1.) That the organic affection of color, though not 
altogether indifferent, still, being accompanied by com- 
paratively little pleasure, comparatively little pain, the 
apprehension of this affection, qua affection, i.e., its sen- 
sation proper, is consequently always at a minimum. 

" (2.) That the passion of color first rising into con- 
sciousness, not from the amount of the intensive quan- 
tity of the affection, but from the amount of the exten- 
sive quantity of the organism affected, is necessarily 
apprehended under the condition of extension. 

^ Wight's Hamilton, p. 431. 



PERCEPTION. 75 

"(3) That the isolation, tenuity, and delicacy of the 
ultimate filaments of the optic nerve afford us minutely 
and precisely distinguished sensations, realized in con- 
sciousness only as we are conscious of them as out of 
each other in space. 

" These circumstances show, that while in vision, 
perception proper is at its maximum and sensation 
proper at its minimum, the sensation of color can- 
not be realized apart from the perception of extension : 
but they do not warrant the assertion, that color is not, 
like the other secondary qualities, apprehended by us 
as a mere sensorial affection." 

6. Fallacies of vision. — According to the above view 
of vision, the various fallacies of sightj as they have 
been called, vanish at once ; such as the crooked appear- 
ance of a straight stick when thrust into the water, the 
apparent suspension of objects in the air in mirage , 
the small apparent size of the sun and moon, and other 
large bodies, which are far removed from us. As vis- 
ion is merely the apprehension of the actual affection 
of the organ, there is no deception in these cases. The 
visual image is precisely what it appears to be. The 
actual form, size, position, etc., of the object represented 
by the sensation is reached only by the co-operation of 
the other senses and powers. 

7. Vision leads to a knowledge of external objects. — 
But vision, though in itself a mere sensation, is not 
practically confined to the subjective affection. As in 
the case of other sensations, we soon learn to infer its 
cause. As we are conscious of the affection only when 
the eyes are open, we at once infer that the cause is 
without. On further experience, we learn that the 
affection varies as we turn in different directions, and 



76 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

that the same afFection recurs when we occupy the 
same position and our eyes are in the same dkection. 
The unavoidable inference, therefor^, is, that each affec- 
tion has a particular cause, lying in a particular direc- 
tion from us. Coming to this conclusion, we soon 
verify our conjecture by moving in different directions, 
and, by means of our other senses, identifying as their 
cause certain objects appreciable by the other senses. 
Having thus established as the cause of visual affec- 
tions, certain external objects in a given relation to us, 
we come to take a visual affection as the sign of the 
existence of a corresponding object in a particular di- 
rection and relation to us, — nay, transfer the appear- 
ance directly to the object in space. The rest is learned 
by after-experience, particularly by the motion ^nd scru- 
tiny of the eyes. 

8. We learn the relative position of the different parts 
of an object to us by the motion of the eyes. — We not 
only learn by experience that the objects of vision are 
external to us, and the general directions in which they 
lie from us, but by the motion of the eyes over an ob- 
ject we learn the exact relative position of its different 
parts towards us. The picture of an object on the re- 
tina, as we learn from science, is inverted relatively to 
the object without. But this we can never become 
conscious of, or deduce from our own experience, only 
as the actual position of the different parts of the ex- 
ternal object to the eye are learned by the use of the 
sense itself. And in learning this, and just as fast and 
as far as we learn this, we learn, also, as we shall soon 
see, that, following out the ascertained lines of vision, 
every point in the object corresponds to its projected 
image on the retina ; so that there never can be any 



PERCEPTION. 77 

conscious discrepancy between the position of the dif- 
ferent parts of an object and its perceived affection or 
image. The law of visible direction^ which shows the 
position of an object and its image on the retina to 
differ relatively, shows them to agree actually. 

9. The law of visible direction, — How, now, do we 
learn this law of visible direction ? Although we re- 
ceive the general image of all parts of an object within 
the field of vision when we open the eyes before it, 
still, it is distinctly and satisfactorily seen only as every 
part in succession is scrutinized by the eyes, with the 
axes more or less concentrated upon it. And all ob- 
jects presented to our view are thus scrutinized by the 
eyes, which are constantly traversing in concert every 
object before them. By this scrutinizing movement 
of the eyes, up and down, to the right and left, over 
an object, the relative position of every part of it to 
the eye is learned, and we soon come to understand 
that each point of an object is seen in the direction of 
a perpendicular to that point of the retina upon which 
the rays from it fall, which is called the law of visible 
direction. Thus the image, at one end of the comple- 
ment of rays, corresponds throughout to the object at 
the other, and any perceived discrepancy is impossible. 

10. How we learn the form of objects by sight. — It 
is by the active and scrutinizing use of the eyes, also, 
that we learn to judge of the form of external objects 
by sight. As the light from all parts of an object 
reaches the eye in straight lines, we cannot, of course, 
directly see the form of any thing, except in one dimen- 
sion ; i.e., as a mere surface outline, just as it is pic- 
tured upon the retina. All that we can see is different 
varieties and shades of color covering a certain expanse, 

7* 



78 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

A solid body is discovered to be such by the sight : — 
in part, from the different degrees of brightness in the 
light from the more distant and averted portions and 
those nearer and more directly before us ; and in part, 
by the varying effort and angle under which the axes 
of the eyes are concentrated upon the different parts 
of it, or of the objects which surround it and deter- 
mine its form. When the object is a solid of such 
shape and size that no rays of light from it reach the 
eyes except from the surface towards them, we make 
out its form from the appearance of surrounding ob- 
jects. 

11. How we learn to see things single. — The question 
here, is not, why we do not in looking at an object see 
two images of it which are precisely alike ^ since we never 
can, at the same time, see two images of an object pre- 
cisely alike. But the real question is, why we are not 
conscious of two images of an object, since two differ- 
ent views of it are actually imaged upon the two eyes ? 
This question may be answered in a general way, by 
saying that it is for the same reason that we hear but 
one sound with two ears, or feel but one object with 
two hands ; viz., that knowing the object to be one by 
other means, as well as by the general sameness of the 
two impressions on the double organ, we have learned to 
disregard the difference, and are not at all conscious of 
it unless the attention is specially called to it. Two 
ears, two eyes, and two hands are given us for the pre- 
cise purpose of observing opposite sides of things — for 
enlarging our experience on the right and on the left — 
but our Creator has abundantly provided by the princi- 
ple of habit that no confusion shall arise from this 
beneficent arrangement. And this, perhaps, is an ade- 



PERCEPTION. ^ 79 

quate answer ; but it may be rendered more convinc- 
ing by a more precise statement. 

12. A more precise ansiver. — From the relative po- 
sition of the two eyes towards an object, one must 
always take in a different aspect of it from the other, 
when they are opened before it. This becomes con- 
sciously so to a cross-eyed person, who attempts to use 
both eyes in looking at an object ; also, to any one who 
receives upon his eyes the image of an object lying be- 
yond some point on which he is steadily fixing his 
gaze, — the more remote object, in such a case, always 
appears double. And all objects would appear so to 
us were not the two images, in ordinary vision, actu- 
ally brought together and blended into one. Not only do 
the two images seen in looking at any object necessarily 
lap on to each other, but as vision is clear and distinct 
only at those points where the axes of the eyes are more 
or less concentrated, we are constantly traversing objects 
from point to point by both eyes in concert, which re- 
duces all to unity. Yet, that we are familiar with 
the aspect of an object as seen by each eye, and actu- 
ally combine these two aspects in vision, is evident 
from the illusion produced by the Stereoscope. By 
this contrivance, two photographic pictures of a person 
or thing, such as would be seen were it looked at first 
with one eye and then with the other, are enclosed 
in a case, and viewed through two eye-glasses brought 
near to the eyes. The result is, that the two pictures 
are combined into one, and we seem to be looking at 
a single object standing out in relief, as in nature. 

13. Hoio toe learn to judge of distance by sight. — It 
is by experience, also, that we learn to judge of the dis- 
tance of objects by sight. It is obvious that we do not 



80 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

directly see distcmce ; and this has been proved experi- 
mentally in the case of persons born blind and after- 
wards restored to sight. Such persons are found, at 
first, incapable of forming any idea of distance by 
sight.* But we learn by experience to infer distance 
from sight with great certainty. We soon learn that 
distance greatly affects the brightness of the color and 
the distinctness of the outline of objects. We are also 
conscious of a varying muscular effort in adjusting the 
eyes to see objects distinctly at different distances. 
From these circumstances, and the intervention of other 
objects of known size and character, in the field of vis- 
ion between the eye and the object looked at, we learn 
to judge quite accurately by sight of the distance of ob- 
jects from us. And having thus formed a notion of 
their distance, we infer also their size. Thus, by expe- 
rience, vision, like our other senses, becomes the source 
of knowledge, of which, at first, it is entirely incapable. 
14. But our judgments from vision suppose uniform 
conditions. — It is true, that vision in itself being 
merely the recognition of the actual affection of the re- 
tina, and the knowledge which we acquire by it of the 
position, form, size, and distance of objects being only 
inferential, our judgment in regard to these qualities of 
objects can be relied upon only under normal condi- 
tions in the atmosphere, which is the medium through 
which light reaches the eye. If in passing through this 
medium the light from any object is bent out of its 
course, as it often is by a change of density in diffeVent 
strata, the object is not seen in its proper place or po- 

^ See the account of the young man couched by Cliclscnden, Hamil- 
ton's Reid, p. 136. 



PERCEPTION. 81 ■ 

sition, as is the case in looming or mirage. So a hazy 
atmosphere, giving an indistinctness of outline to an 
object near by, while it does not, of course, diminish its 
apparent size, makes us judge it to be larger than it 
really is ; since we imagine it, from the indistinctness 
of its outline, to be farther off than it is, — w^e allow 
too much for distance. Bishop Berkeley attributes to 
this source of illusion the increased apparent size of the 
sun and moon when seen in the horizon, compared with 
their apparent size in mid-heaven. But this would 
seem to be due, rather, as explained by Descartes, to 
the intervention of objects of known size within the 
field of vision, when they are seen in the horizon, 
with which these heavenly bodies are brought into 
comparison, and judged to be larger in consequence, 
because known to be vastly farther off, — the compari- 
son forces us to magnify the apparent size of the dis- 
tant luminaries. 

15. But any illusions of sight are easily corrected. — 
But these and the like illusions of sight are compara- 
tively few and unimportant, and are either wholly cor- 
rected or rendered harmless by experience. They are 
all explained by a knowledge of the laws of nature, 
and easy means of correction supplied. Sight thus 
opens to us a wide and diversified field for perception, 
and by the cheerful light and varied hues with -which 
it clothes nature, imparts the crowning charm to life. 

V. HEARING. 

1. The organ of this sense. — The ear is the organ 
of hearing. At the point where it joins the head, the 
ear becomes contracted to a small tube, across the bot- 
tom of which is stretched the membrane that forms 



! 



82 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

the head of the tympanum or drum, which is a cavity 
containing a succession of bones so arranged as to 
propagate vibrations most effectively. Below the tym- I 
panum is the labyrinth^ which is filled with a watery ' 
fluid, in which the fibres of the auditory nerve^ the seat 
of the sensation of sound, are spread out. The exter- 
nal ear collects the vibrations proceeding from sonorous 
bodies through the air, which are conveyed to the drum 
through the tube, and from that propagated with greatly 
increased intensity to the fluid of the labyrinth, and 
thus to the auditory nerve which floats in this fluid ; 
the vibratory affection of which is recognized by the 
mind as sound. 

2. Sound is a mere sensation. — Sound, too, as per- 
ceived by us, is a mere sensation. Its immediate cause 
we learn to be, the vibratory motion of the surrounding 
air ; and its remote cause, the vibratory motion of the 
particles of some body, which causes the agitation in 
the air. As the whole movement originates with this 
remote cause, this is considered the real cause. In de- 
termining the direction of a sound and tracing it to its 
source, we are greatly assisted by having two ears, and 
the capacity of turning the head in different directions. 
It is on the fact that we judge of the direction whence 
a sound comes from the manner in which it strikes the 
ear, and of its distance by its strength and distinctness, 
that the art of ventriloquism is founded. The ventrilo- 
quist, with some peculiarity, perhaps, in the organs of 
speech, has acquired such power over his voice, that he 
is able, aided by an artful direction of the attention of 
the hearers, to speak in such tones as may seem to 
proceed from any point he pleases. 

3. Importance of this sense. — The sense of hearing 



PERCEPTION. 83 

is important to us, not only by informing us of the clash 
of objects, the roar of waters, the agitations of the ele- 
ments, the cries of animals, the artificial sounds, whether 
produced for pleasure or utility, but especially as the 
means of catching the tones of the human voice, and 
receiving the thoughts of others conveyed to the ear in 
winged words. Nay, even the exercise of our own 
powers of speech depends upon our possession of the 
sense of hearing. The voice can be articulated only 
as its tones are heard by the speaker himself. 



SECTION V. 
IMPORTANCE OF THE SENSES. 



1. Comparative impartance of the senses. — Of the 
comparative importance of the different senses it seems 
difficult to judge. They are all so important, so neces- 
sary, that it is hard determining which is the most so. 
As of the members of the body in general one cannot 
say to the other, " I have no need of thee," so of the 
senses in particular, it is hard to say which we could 
spare best. Yet, it is obvious that the loss of feeling 
must be the most fatal, though the loss of sight seems 
the most deplorable. But it is found, as matter of fact, 
that the loss of hearing, accompanied, as it always is, 
by the loss of the power of speech, is a greater obstacle 
to improvement than the loss of sight, and I doubt if it 
be not a greater deduction from one's happiness. 

2. Their individual and combined importance. — But, 
of^ the individual and combined importance of the 
senses, there can be no doubt. It is by them that na- 



84 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

ture is unlocked and disclosed, being transformed from 
what would be to us a universal blank to the beauteous 
thing which it now appears. By Taste her various 
sapid qualities are elicited — her treasured stores of 
sweet and pleasant flavors, with their opposites, the bit- 
ter, the sour, the acrid, and the nauseous. Smell snuffs 
up her odors, and Hearing drinks in her harmonica; 
while under the power of Touch and Sight she dis- 
closes her huge masses, her vast distances, her endless 
variety of forms, all invested with a robe of light, so 
bright, so cheerful, so variegated, so tinted and beauti- 
fied, as to defy all imitation, or even description. 

3. The senses collect the primitive materials used by 
the mind. — The senses, then, collect the primitive ma- 
terials, and indeed, the whole mass of materials from 
without, used by the other powers of the mind. As 
already remarked, the facts of consciousness, which re- 
solve themselves virtually into the facts of perception, 
in conjunction with the native truths developed in the 
process, and inductions and deductions from them, con- 
stitute all the knowledge of which we are capable. The 
means for exerting our higher powers, therefore, and the 
legitimacy of their results, all depend upon the extent 
and character of the primitive materials collected by 
the senses. It is obvious, therefore, in general, that the 
man who neglects to use his senses assiduously and 
carefully, can have but little knowledge, and that of a 
very vague and indistinct character. Without the 
proper use of the senses, there must always be an in- 
definiteness, an inaccuracy, an insufficiency in our views, 
which can be remedied by no other powers. 

4. The sciences are founded upon perceived facts. — 
Most sciences are founded upon facts, and of these, all 



PERCEPTION. 85 

but mental science, upon facts observed by the senses. 
And in many, if not in most, of these sciences, the ob- 
served facts are the chief thing. In all the branches 
of Natural History, there is nothing but classification, 
beyond the collection of facts. And while the collec- 
tion and proper inspection of these require a vast 
amount of time, labor, and care, the principle of clas- 
sification is usually quite obvious, and is generally of 
itself suggested to the mind during the collection of 
the materials, if only the senses be properly used in 
scrutinizing them as they pass under their observation. 
And even in Natural Philosophy, not excepting As- 
tronomy, the facts are not only the foundation, but a 
large part of the science. 

5. Even language is based upon the perceptions of the 
senses. — *- And not only so, even language is built very 
largely upon the knowledge acquired by the senses. 
The first meaning of most words is physical. A large 
part of the words of a language, of course, refer solely 
to things physical — to natural objects, changes, or 
phenomena. Of the rest, very many, not excepting 
those referring to mental states, acts, relations, etc., 
have a physical element as their basis. Hence much 
of the force and meaning of language must depend 
upon our having observed the physical objects, facts, 
changes, phenomena, to which the words refer, or from 
which they take their coloring. 

6. These elements of knoioledge are accessible to all. 
— Now it is benevolently arranged by our Creator, 
that these facts, thus lying at the foundation of all 
knowledge and improvement, are generally close at 
hand, addressing themselves to our senses, and solicit- 
ing our attention on all sides. We have but to open 

8 



86 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

our eyes and unseal our senses, to perceive the great 
mass of them. As a whole, they are so accessible, and 
even obtrusive, that an ever-wakeful attention will en- 
able even the common man, in connection with his 
ordinary pursuits and experience, to collect a vast store 
of them. 

7. Importance of cultivating the senses by observation. ♦ 
— "We see, then, hov/ great importance attaches to our J 
early forming the habit of close and accurate observa- I 
tion of all the objects and changes around us. This | 
is the way to cultivate our senses and make them in ^ 
the highest degree useful to us. The man who forms | 
this habit early and continues it through life, keeping | 
up, wherever he goes, and however employed, a lively J 
wakefulness of attention to what exists and is occur- * 
ring around him; examining everywhere nature and 

art, earths, minerals, insects, animals, man, chemical 
and mechanical processes and arrangements, the aspects 
of the earth, the sea, and the sky, will acquire a vast ^ 

store of most interesting and useful knowledge, and 
have in his possession the materials for making a great 
philosopher. One thus furnished, only wants an intel- 
lect capable of evoking order from the mass, and con- 
necting his materials by the natural threads of classifi- 
cation and law, to become a Cuvier, a Humboldt, a 
Miller, or an Agassiz. 

8. Importance of training the senses in youth. — In 
conclusion, I cannot refrain from suggesting, as a most 
obvious inference from what has been said, that more 
attention should be given to the training of the senses 
to habits of observation in youth. Parents should en- 
deavor to form the habit in their children, and teachers 
in those committed to their charge. Observation by 



PERCEPTION. 87 

the senses should be a very important branch of in- 
struction in all schools, from the lowest to the highest. 
Natural objects of all kinds should be examined and 
analyzed before the pupils, while they are required ac- 
curately to note all their peculiarities. And if our 
schools would adjourn to the fields, en masse , for an 
hour or two each day, and carry on the study of nature 
there, it would be greatly to the advantage of the pu- 
pils, both physically and intellectually. 



1 



CHAPTER IV. 

* MEMORY. 

SECTION i. 
MEMORY AND RECOLLECTION. 

1. Memory and recollection distinguished. — Memory 
is the common undiscriminating term employed to des- 
ignate the general power of recalling our past experi- 
ence. But when we speak with precision, it is used 
only of that direct and ready reproduction of the past, 
as though it were an ever-present possession. Accord- 
ing to its derivation, memory means, the being mindful 
of the having something in mind. Past events seem to 
be treasured in the mind and held ready for use, by the 
memory. Whatever we perfectly remember seems a 
part of the ready furniture of the mind, — something 
which we can rely upon for use whenever we need it ; 
so that we have but to turn our attention inward to 
perceive the objects of memory, just as we have but to 
open the eye to see outward objects. Recollection, or 
Reminiscence, on the contrary, recognizes the repro- 
duction of past experience as a process, — as the collect' 
ing again^ or becoming mindful again of something 
known before. The object is not at once recalled, but 
has to be sought for. Several steps must be taken be- 
fore it is reached. 

2. The distinction illustrated, — Memory and recol- 
lection, then, are alike the reviving of past experience, 



MEMORY. 80 

the one without any conscious effort, the other with 
more or less effort. In the one case, the object sought 
for presents itself at once as though it were ready- 
treasured in the mind ; in the other, only after more or 
less search. The face of a friend, the home of our 
youth, a passage from a favorite author, a familiar tune, 
or a familiar process, which presents itself distinctly the 
instant it is wanted, is properly said to be remembered ; 
but the effort to revive a forgotten countenance, or 
scene, or the mental search to discover, for instance, 
where we lost some article, is recollection. This is the 
proper distinction between the words, though not al- 
ways observed. 

3. A ready and a tardy memory. — The man who has 
his past experience so at his command that it comes to 
him whenever he wants it, is said to have a ready 
memory, a tenacious memory, a good memory ; whUe 
the man who can recall but few things without going 
through a process of recollection and search, is said to 
have a defective or poor memory. This difference of 
memory in different persons, is owing partly, without 
doubt, to an original difference of mental endowment, 
and partly to a difference of training and mental habits. 
The ever-wakeful use of the senses, the study of facts, 
the committing of verbal lessons, the frequent use of 
knowledge in conversation, and the constant demand 
made upon one by business for the prompt recollection 
of details, tend greatly to increase the readiness and 
tenacity of memory. Whereas, a neglect of facts and 
details, an avoidance of society and business, and the 
confining of one's attention chiefly to the study of prin- 
ciples, produce hesitancy and tardiness of memory. 

4. A ready memory often a fatal gift. — It is this fact, 

8^ 



90 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

probably, which has tended to disparage memory as a 
mental endowment, in comparison with some of the 
other powers. Great readiness of memory certainly 
does not imply any very profound culture. Indeed, it 
rather implies the contrary. And yet, it does not neces- 
sarily imply any original defect in the general powers 
of the mind. The general knowing principle being vir- 
tually one, any extraordinary capacity in one power 
would seem to imply the like capacity in the others. 
Doubtless a ready memory, as an attractive and strik- 
ing talent, which, in this form, is best cultivated by 
miscellaneous and desultory habits, has often proved a 
fatal gift, preventing all systematic and profound study. 
Besides, there are unquestionably some cases, where 
the memory is in excess, just as there are others, where 
some other power is in excess. But a good'mind must 
have a good memory ; though it more commonly as- 
sumes, perhaps, in such a mind, especially when well 
disciplined, the form of recollection, or perhaps I should 
say, of logical reproduction. Such minds associate 
their knowledge well, and recall it readily along their 
accustomed lines of thought. Their knowledge is all 
gathered around certain general principles, and they 
can, at any moment, illuminate these with any number 
of facts and illustrations. But they have very little of 
that random, desultory power of memory, which usu- 
ally excites the greatest admiration. 

5. Memory and recollection rarely exist in a high de- 
gree in the same mind. — Memory and recollection, 
therefore, rarely co-exist in equal degrees — certainly not 
both of them in eminent degrees — in the same mind. 
The desultory, practical memory either recalls what it 
wants, at once, or not at all. It has no settled lines of 



MEMORY. 91 

association, and no power to trace them, if it had. The 
philosophical memory, on the contrary, is equally inca- 
pable of random efforts. It can recall thoughts only by 
running along the chain by which they are connected 
in the mind, until they are reached. The two species 
of memory are found united in any high degree only in 
those rare characters, who are at the same time schol- 
ars and men of the world, thinkers and actors, men of 
special, and men of general culture, men of genius and 
men of sense. 

6. Me viory prevails more in youths recollection in ma- 
ture age. — It may be remarked farther, that memory 
proper prevails more in youth, recollection in mature 
age. Children remember words, facts, events, and all 
matters of detail, much more readily than adults ; but 
having few ' extended associations, they have but little 
power of recollection. Men of mature age, on the 
contrary, having associated their knowledge more per- 
fectly, depend more upon recollection, and less upon 
simple spontaneous memory. In old age, the senses 
becoming duller and the attention feebler, passing 
events make but little impression upon the mind, and 
are consequently but very imperfectly remembered, 
while the experience of youth still remains fresh in the 
memory, and life again relapses into childhood. 

7. The office of memory according to Hamilton, — 
The above account of the relation of memory and rec- 
ollection is in accordance with the distinction which 
has commonly been made by philosophers between the 
two processes. But Sir W. Hamilton, holding to the 
existence of " latent mental modifications," limits the 
term memory expressly to the supposed power of 
retaining ideas out of consciousness. According to 



92 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

this view, all conscious reproduction of the past is 
really recollection, which we believe to be the case, 
and hence that there is only an apparent distinction 
between memory and recollection, — not, however, that 
memory is a blind hoarding of ideas. 



SECTION II. 
WHAT WE REMEMBER. 



1. The object remembered is suggested by something 
else present to the mind, — To remember any thing is 
to be reminded of it, or more exactly, to be put in mind 
of it again. It is the reviving again of a previous 
knowledge of something. It is not to have a direct 
present knowledge of any thing in itself, but to have a 
previous knowledge recalled. The mind, in memory, 
is not directly occupied with the thing remembered, but 
with something which suggests it. The external object 
remembered is never present within the sphere of sense, 
and is often very far removed from us, both in time and 
space. The mind, then, must really be occupied with 
its own thoughts. The thought of the object is sug- 
gested by some other thought present to the mind. 
Or if the remembrance be occasioned by the recurrence 
of the object itself, still, it is the object in our past ex- 
perience which is remembered, — the present perception 
of the object reminds us, at the same time, of a former 
perception of it, and recalls it as it was then per- 
ceived. 

2. Memory pictures out the thing remembered, — Mem- 
ory is an imaging out or thinking of something of 
Vv^hich we have been previously conscious. If one re- 



MEMORY. 93 

fleets upon his state of mind in memory, especially in 
recollecting an object of sight, as, for instance, a family 
circle with which he has been familiar, he will find 
himself picturing out the whole scene and contemplat- 
ing it in all its minutiae. As, however, the object or 
scene, as far as it is distinctly recalled and dwelt 
upon, is always pictured out with its surroundings, or 
in its actual connections of time and place, as origi- 
nally perceived, it does not appear to be in the mind, 
but in the position of the thing itself; nay, almost the 
very thing itself. By a law of our nature, as we have 
already seen, the representation is received as irresisti- 
ble evidence of our former perception of the object, and 
by'the force of habit, we come to think only of that object. 
Thus, in the regular operation of those laws of our na- 
ture which the Creator has impressed upon it, our 
knowledge of the past, as far as it goes, becomes as 
simple, as vivid, and as reliable as that of the present. 
With this explanation of what memory is, both really 
and practically, we are prepared to consider, more par- 
ticularly, what objects are capable of being recalled in 
memory. 

3. We may thus remember objects perceived by sight. 
— It is quite obvious, then, at the outset, that we may 
distinctly remember objects which have been perceived 
by sight. Objects of sight being perceived under the 
illumination of light, and being apprehended as pictured 
forms, are easily imaged or represented to the mind in 
memory. A tree, a house, a human form, or any other 
visible object, stands out in memory, almost as dis- 
tinctly as in perception. The object remembered is not 
only as clearly conceived by the mind, but may be as 
clearly described to another, as if directly perceived. 



94 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

The mental image being the exact counterpart of the 
external object or scene, may, of course, be described in 
the same terms. 

4. Also objects perceived by touch. — It is universally 
conceded, too, that we may distinctly remember objects 
of touch. In the perceptions of this sense, also, the 
object is revealed as having a definite form and outline, 
and hence, like the object itself, may be distinctly de- 
scribed to another. The blind man who reads by 
raised letters, remembers the form of the letters as dis- 
tinctly as does the man who reads by his sight. But, 
as most objects of touch are also objects of sight, and, 
by those who have the use of both senses, are almost 
always actually perceived bty the latter, they are, of 
course, more commonly recalled as objects of sight than 
as objects of touch. 

5. Soj toOj we may remember sounds. — It is generally 
allowed, also, that we can remember sounds. The per- 
son who, having heard a variation of sounds, as in a 
tune, repeats or imitates these sounds by his voice or 
on an instrument, must remember the original harmony. 
And yet we can form no such distinct image of sound, 
as we can of an object of touch or sight, and hence a 
sound cannot be adequately described to another, except 
by repeating it, or by a series of conventional signs, as 
musical notes, which have come, by usage, to have a 
given significance, like language. Still, sound being a 
particular phenomenon to the mind, possessing a spe- 
cific character or marks, must be susceptible of repro- 
duction in memory. Indeed, as a particular local 
affection of the organ of hearing, as a succession of 
impulses on the ear, it is not without physical elements, 
which are capable of being likened to objects of sight and 



MEMORY. 95 

touch ; as, for instance, to a succession of waves, a rising 
or falling, a moving or shaking, of an object in space. 
At all events, we know that sounds are remembered, and 
that a musician can not only repeat a complicated va- 
riation of sounds which he has heard, but run over them 
in thought, without any accompanying sound. 

6. Nor can it be denied that ive remember odors and 
flavors, — And if it be admitted that we remember 
sounds, I do not see how it can be denied that we re- 
member odors and flavors. These, too, as specific af- 
fections of the organs of smell and taste, are not with- 
out physical elements enough to give them local 
associations, and constitute the basis of a veritable 
representative image. At all events, they are specific 
phenomena to the mind, susceptible of such mental as- 
sociations as to be capable of being recalled. And 
there is abundant evidence that we do recall them even 
by their physical associations, as in the smacking of the 
lips, the snuffing up of the air, etc., which are often wit- 
nessed in persons when referring to certain tastes or 
smells. All recognize them, too, on their recurrence, 
which is virtually an act of memory. ^ The recurrence 
of the thing itself is substituted in place of the usual 
related thought. But the immediate recognition of 
it as what has been before perceived, shows the mind 
not to have lost its former knowledge of it. 

7. Feelings^ etc., may also be remembered. — We may 
remember, also, all the various local affections, sensa- 
tions, feelings, and pains, of which we are conscious, as 
well as the various unlocalized emotions and states of 



=^ " If I be not mistaken, we must recur to repetition as an ultimate prin- 
ciple of reproduction (i.e., in memory). " — Hamilton, 



96 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

the mind ; such as, on the one hand, the feelings occa- 
sioned by heat, cold, stimulants, narcotics, pressure, 
disorganization, disease, etc., and on the other, the emo- 
tions of fear, joy, compassion, and the convictions of 
truth, duty, etc. Many of these, as affections of certain 
organs or parts of the body, or being attended with 
certain physical perturbations, are remembered under 
local relations, and all of them are recognized at once, 
on their recurrence. 

8. Even a process of reasonings as a series of steps^ 
may be remembered. — In a certain sense, too, we re- 
member processes of reasoning. Reasoning itself, how- 
ever, is not, either as a new or as a repeated process, 
mere memory. Reasoning proceeds by the assent of 
the understanding to the truth of a series of proposi- 
tions, and in order to make it reasoning, there must be 
the same assent of the mind at every step, on its repe- 
tition. We may remember that we have before given 
our assent to the truth of a proposition, or a series of 
them., but unless we now give it, also, it is no reasoning 
to us. But the whole process, as consisting of a series 
of propositions assented to, or of steps taken by the 
mind, may be made as much an object of memory, as 
any thing whatever. 

9. This illustrated. — Thus it is that the public 
speaker fixes in his mind beforehand the chief points 
or propositions which he wishes to establish in his 
speech, and recalls them in order, as he advances, and 
establishes them, too, by subordinate propositions, also 
pre-arranged. Here, doubtless, the memory is aided 
by language, and the propositions may be, in part, 
suggested by their logical dependence. In like man- 
ner, also, the mathematician, by going over a demon- 



MEMORY. 97 

stration, fixes the successive steps of the process in his 
mind, so that he can recall them at any time. In this 
he is greatly assisted by diagrams or other symbols. 
The geometric construction, or other combination of 
symbols, is made to represent the process, and recall it 
whenever it is itself recalled. 

10. In shorty we may remember any state of conscious- 
ness. — In short, it is evident that we may remember 
any simple or complex state of consciousness, and any 
mental experience whatever. There are none of them 
that are not so associated with something else, either 
external or internal, as to be recalled by the associated 
object or thought, and they all appear as old acquaint- 
ances on a fresh recurrence. Indeed, unless one is the 
most empty of nominalists, he must believe that every 
thing which has a name is recalled by the recurrence 
of that name, which serves as its representative, and 
often as a sort of description. 

11. But it is admitted that things visible and tangible 
are the most readily remembered. — But while all this 
is true, it is admitted that things visible and tangible 
are the most easily and vividly remembered. Not only 
can they be distinctly imaged by the mind, but they 
are capable of much more varied associations. The 
gradations and analogies among forms, places, and col- 
ors, are so numerous and obtrusive^ that objects possess- 
ing extension, position J and color,, are readily associated 
with a greater variety of things than any others, and 
consequently are more easily recalled. Hence, as much 
of our knowledge as possible should be introduced 
through the senses of sight and touch, or at least be 
represented by objects which address themselves to 
these senses. And here, again, we see the importance 

9 



98 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

of diagrams, models, and symbols of all kinds, in im- 
parting knowledge. The mind not only apprehends 
knowledge more distinctly when 'thus presented, but 
retains it better. 



SECTION III. 
HOW WE REMEMBER. 



1. Wliat is here aimed at — My object here is, as in 
the corresponding section under perception, simply to 
give a criticised account of the process of memory. 
Like other mental processes, memory is not wholly a 
mystery. It may be traced and rendered intelligible up 
to a certain point, though it is not pretended that the 
whole process can be unfolded and explained. As 
perception was found to have certain fixed antecedents, 
and to be far from that vague arbitrary notion of ex- 
ternal objects which it has often been supposed to be, 
so memory will be found to be far from a blind, random 
act. 

2. Memory is ahvays a sequence to some antecedent 
thought. — While perception is caused by the presence 
of an object within the sphere of sense, memory is 
caused by the presence to the mind of some thought 
or thing associated with the object remembered. An 
object is perceived only while it is actually present to 
sense, but it is regularly recalled by the recurrence of 
other thoughts, according to laws to be named hereaf- 
ter. In the simplest act of memory, as well as in the 
most extended process of recollection, there is always 
some antecedence in the act. We do not remember at 
random, nor merely by a determination of the will to 



MEMORY. 99 

do SO, We may enter upon a train of recollection, in 
consequence. of having determined to do so, but we can 
only reach the remembrance of the object sought for, by 
meeting in our search with some related thought or 
thing which suggests it. 

3. Illustrated in the simplest case of memory, — To 
commence with the simplest case ; I remember a fa- 
miliar friend, in whose society I have often been, and 
have been in it, perhaps, within a few hours. Do I do 
this at random, and without the antecedent occurrence 
of something leading to the recollection? Certainly 
not. Either some one speaks of him, and thus awak- 
ens my recollection of him, or some object or thought 
associated with him occurs, and reminds me of him. 
And so in all similar cases. Familiar objects — and 
this, indeed, is what constitutes their familiarity — being 
more largely and intimately associated with our expe- 
rience and the ordinary routine of life, are naturally 
much more easily and frequently remembered, since 
vastly more thoughts and things must be continually 
occurring to remind us of them. So, too, things com- 
mitted to memory, or with which we charge our mem- 
ory, as we say, are only more intimately and specifically 
associated with certain things likely to recur and thus 
recall them. Such special association is accomplished 
by thinking of the objects to be associated protractedly 
or intensely together. 

4. Illustrated by the committing of a lesson, — Take 
the case of a lesson to be committed to memory for rec- 
itation. If it is to be committed verbally, the position 
of every word upon the page is carefully noted and as- 
sociated with its place, and with the preceding and suc- 
ceeding words. The call to recite recalls the page and 



100 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

the starting-point on the page, and thus the first word, 
which, as adjacent to it, recalls the next place with its 
word, and so on to the end. But if only the ideas are 
to be recited, we associate the successive ideas with 
the successive parts of the page, or with each other, so 
that one recalls the other according to the pre-arranged 
order of association ; and the ideas, in turn, recall the 
appropriate words for expressing them. 

5. It must be so even in instances of the most ready 
memory^ or else the process is automatic. — And if it be 
said that there can be no such process of association 
and recalling in cases of the most unhesitating and 
rapid memory, such as the repeating of a familiar pas- 
sage of poetry, or the playing of a familiar tune, I 
reply that we cannot be quite certain of this. Custom 
has a wonderful power in obscuring the real steps taken 
by the mind in any process. But if, in such a case, 
each word and note is not recalled by its association 
with the preceding, or by some other association, then 
there is no proper memory in the case, but the process, 
by frequent repetition, has become purely automatic 
(See chap. 2. sec. 1., 3). 

6. WTiat is meant by charging the memory with any 
thing. — Or take the case where we specially charge 
the memory with any thing. Do we really commit 
this to the memory with special care, as to one of the 
compartments of the mind, for safe-keeping, till called 
for ? Not surely in any literal sense. We rather as- 
sociate it, or think of it with special attention, in con- 
nection with something which we suppose will be the 
most likely to attract our notice, or fall in our way, 
about the time we wish to recall the object to be re- 
membered, and thus remind us of it. Suppose, for in- 



MEMORY. 101 

stance, I have written a letter, which I wish to drop 
into the post-office at a certain hour. I either place it 
where I expect to be at that time, so that it may catch 
my notice, or I think of it in connection with some 
object, place, or duty, which is to occupy my attention 
at that hour, and will thus remind me of it. Of the 
same nature are all the Uttle arts of memory which we 
daily practise. They are all merely pre-arranged asso- 
ciations for the purpose of recalling some object to 
memory. The string is tied upon the finger, that, hav- 
ing been first associated with some object by thinking 
of them together, it may recall it as often as seen or felt, 
which, from its position, is likely to occur frequently. 

7. A case of consciously voluntary recollection. — Or 
take a case of consciously voluntary and determined 
recollection. Suppose I have lost my purse on a jour- 
ney, and wish to ascertain in what part of the journey 
I lost it. By a process precisely like that already de- 
scribed as employed in reciting a series of words, I 
retrace the whole journey in imagination, with all its 
attending circumstances, searching especially for occa- 
sions which required the expenditure of money, that I 
may learn where I had the purse last. Every bridge 
and ferry and tavern are recalled with all possible dis- 
tinctness, to see if they will yield any associated images 
of money paid out. Thus, the whole journey is first run 
over in thought, for the purpose of reviving the par- 
ticular parts of it, and then these particular parts or ob- 
jects are closely scrutinized, the mind passing from one 
associated object to another, in the hope of reaching 
the one desired. 

H. Memory^ therefore^ always consists of more than 
one step, — It is evident, therefore, that memory is a 
9* 



102 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

process always consisting of more than one step. It is 
not a direct looking of the mind to an object or its im- 
age, but the thought of an object, suggested by the pres- 
ence or thought of some related object. And if this be 
so, memory cannot be, as has sometimes been supposed, 
an inspection by the mind of impressions on the brain, 
or even a retaining of impressions or ideas by the mind 
itself. Ideas are not hoarded in the memory, but are 
reproduced as needed, according to established laws of 
suggestion. Memory is strictly a process of mental 
suggestion or reproduction. By an original law of the 
mind, ideas holding certain relations to each other sug- 
gest or recall each other, — the mind, on the recurrence 
of one, reproduces the other by a primary law of the 
intelligence. 

9. The mind is not wholly passive in the act. — The 
mind, evidently, is not wholly passive in the process, 
barely contemplating a series of physical changes in the 
sensorium. It obviously does something. It makes the 
successive representations according to established laws 
of suggestion. The physical view of memory, held by 
Hobbes and Hartley, which refers the reproduction of 
ideas to the repetition of a series of physical changes 
in the sensorium, which, having been connected with 
each other before in our experience, succeed each 
other spontaneously afterwards, is scarcely conceivable, 
and is open to objection on all sides. One fatal objec- 
tion is, that the recurrence of objects or thoughts not 
only recalls such others as have been previously in the 
mind with them, .but those, also, which are merely like 
them, as where a face which we never saw before re- 
calls, by its likeness, the face of some friend. Though 
not without its difficulties, the hypothesis of an actual 



^ 



MEMORY. 103 

reproduction by the mind of the representations in 
memory, is every way preferable to this physical view. 



SECTION IV. 

LAWS OF MEMORY (ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS). 

• 

1. First Law. — An idea (thought^ tiling)^ by its recur- 
rence^ tends to recall its former existence in the mind.— 
Here there is but a single intermediate step taken in 
reaching the object to be remembered, and as this is 
the actual recurrence of the thought (or thing) itself, 
this may be called direct or simple memory,'' 

2. This is commonly called recognition. — This is 
what is commonly called recognition^ but is, to all in- 
tents and purposes, memory. A past knowledge is ex- 
cited by a present thought, and, although that thought 
is but the present perception of the same object, or the 
present consciousness of the same mental state which 
is remembered, the knowledge recalled is not the less 
that of a past experience, than in other cases of mem- 
ory. The only difference is, that the present thought 
of an object awakens a past thought of it, instead of 
its being awakened by the thought of something else. 
Illustrations of this law are of constant occurrence ; as, 
where a friend, who has not been seen, perhaps, for 
years, is immediately recognized when he comes into 
our presence ; or a flavor, perceived long before, is re- 
membered as soon as tasted again ; or an emotion, a 
judgment, or any mental experience, is recalled by its 
recurrence. 

3. Second Law. — Ideas {thoughts^ things) like each 
other^ in any respect^ tend to suggest each other. — 



104 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

This includes all likeness of thoughts (or things) in 
themselves, whether the likeness be direct or analogi- 
cal. It does not, however, embrace likeness of circum- 
stance, or in the surroundings, as of time and place. 

4. Illustrations of the law. — Instances of ideas re- 
calling each other from a direct likeness, are such as 
the sight of a face, an animal, or other visible objegt, re- 
minding us, by some point of resemblance, of one 
which we have seen before ; or the awakening of the rec- 
ollection of some former sensation, emotion, etc., by the 
tasting of a flavor, the smelling of an odor, or the ex- 
periencing of a desire or emotion, like in kind to one 
before perceived or experienced. Thus a single resem- 
bling feature in a face often awakens the recollection 
of an absent friend, and a single resembling strain 
in a tune, the recollection of a once familiar air. In- 
stances of ideas with an analogical likeness which recall 
each other, are such as the decay of plants reminding 
one of death, pensive music inspiring solemn thoughts, 
and vast solitudes suggesting ideas of God and of 
eternity. 

5. Pre-arranged associations according to this law. — 
So, also, we may pre-arrange associations on the prin- 
ciple of likeness. Suppose a man, by the name of 
Phillips has red hair, and 1 wish to form an association 
which shall enable me to recall his name at any time. 
The idea of fire^ as having a likeness to the color of 
his hair, will recall this personal aspect of him, and I 
shall thereby immediately reach his name, if I can only 
connect his name and that of fire by a like association. 
I further observe, then, that the two words commence 
with the same sound (PA—/), and thus the association 
is completed on the principle of likeness. So I might 



MEMORY. 105 

recall the name Walker, by establishing an association 
between it and the process (ivalking) performed by the 
feetj and thus think of the feet when I wished to reach 
the name. 

6. Third Law. — Ideas {thoughts^ things) related by 
Contiguity of place and time are apt to suggest each 
other. — This law includes all of cause and effect, 
which can properly be said to be the ground of recollec- 
tion ; viz., the simple antecedency and contiguity of par- 
ticular events. 

7. Remai'k of Hamilton. — " We must admit," says 
Sir W. Hamilton,* " that the integrant parts of an in- 
tegrate luhole suggest each other as co-adjacent. The 
thought of any thing which we have previously known 
as such a part, is not usually, when reproduced, viewed 
as an irrespective object, but tends to call up the other, 
and in particular, the proximately adjacent parts, jointly 
with it constituent of a certain total object." And not 
only so, but whenever two or more thoughts have come 
into the mind at the same place or time, the recurrence 
of one tends to awaken the other. Thus the sight 
or thought of a tree which I once saw shivered by 
lightning, recalls the appearance of the flash, the cloud, 
and all the circumstances as they were then perceived. 
In like manner, the sound of a native air in a foreign 
land reminds one of home, where it has been heard so 
often before. 

8. Illustration of the law. — And to continue the il- 
lustration of the law, it is on this principle that the 
name of a person or place recalls the individual or lo- 
cality, or the reverse. The name and thing have been 

* Fragment on Menial Association. Appendix D =^ ^ to Reid's Works. 



106 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

SO often perceived in conjunction, that one recalls the 
other. And here we see a reason why we remember 
best the places which we have personally visited, and 
by so doing have most thoroughly associated the actual 
appearance and surroundings of the places with their 
names. And hence, again, we see why the names of 
places should always be printed distinctly on maps in 
connection with the localities which they designate, 
that they may always be perceived together when the 
map is examined, and thus recall each other more 
readily, when one is named, remembered, or recurs in 
any way. 

9. Further illustration, — It is on this principle, also, 
that the sentiments and tone of the mind are so much 
affected by time and place. On the Sabbath and in 
the house of God, the mind naturally takes on the tofie 
which it has so often experienced there before ; while, 
for the same reason, it is exhilarated with lightness and 
gayety in the ball-chamber or the festive hall, and 
stirred to its lowest depths on the storied field of great 
deeds, and in the presence of the mementos of past 
greatness and glory. 

10. Fourth Law. — Ideas [thoughts^ things) standing 
in the relation of Contrariety or Contrast tend to recall 
each other. — Much of our knowledge comes into the 
mind in the form of contrasts, and, coming in thus, is 
naturally recalled in the same order, according to the 
preceding law. In our experience, we meet with the 
good and the bad, the rich and the poor, the high and 
the low, the bitter and the sweet, day and night, hill 
and dale, woodland and prairie, land and water, the 
hovel and the palace, and all the ten thousand varieties 



MEMORY. 107 

and contrasts of life. Now, by this law, one of the 
objects in any of these contrasted pairs occurring, tends 
to recall the other ; as, for instance, the warmth and 
comfort of our own home is likely to remind us of the 
dreariness and discomfort of the hovel of the poor. 

11. But perhaps this is only a form of the logical 
lata of relatives. — But perhaps this law should be re- 
garded as merely the carrying out in things contingent 
of the general law of relatives. The relation here is 
only more loose and contingent than that between real 
relatives, which cannot be thought of apart, or at least, 
always seem to imply each other when reflected upon ; 
such as, substance and accident, cause and effect, part 
and whole, true and false, parent and child, debtor and 
creditor, good and bad, simple and complex, equal and 
unequal, like and unlike, etc. As these terms mutually 
imply each other, they necessarily come into the mind 
together, but with scarcely more certainty on the repe- 
tition than when first thought of. Thus the apprehen- 
sion of true relatives is rather a law of thought than a 
law of memory proper. But in those looser and more 
general contrasts, where both terms are not necessarily 
thought together, and where, therefore, their connection 
in thought may be, and often is, the result of casual 
association, their coming into the mind together may be 
ascribed to the memory. 

12. Fifth Law. — Ideas (thoughts, things) suggest 
each other, not merely hy force of the above relations 
among themselves, but in proportion to the relation of in- 
terest in which they stand to each mind. 

13. This is merely a principle of variation in the ap- 
plication of the preceding laws. — This is merely a law 



108 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

of preference^ not a new principle of association. In 
practice, association and reminiscence, though always 
in accordance with the preceding laws, do not, in dif- 
ferent individuals and cases, always go through the same 
line to reach the same end. They start from different 
points, and take different tracks, according to the tem- 
perament, habits, circumstances, or moods of different 
minds, or of the same mind at different times. The 
variations in the habits of memory in different persons 
and on different occasions, and the causes of these va- 
riations, are well stated by Vives, * from whom I trans- 
late the following : — 

14. Remarks of Vives on these variations. — (1.) " All 
do not have a memory for all things alike. Some re- 
member words more easily, and some things ; as Hor- 
tensius is said to have excelled in the former, Themis- 
tocles in the latter. Others remember more readily and 
perfectly things curious, others things natural and sim- 
ple, others public, others private, affairs, others what is 
old, others what is new ; some their own things, some 
what is another's, some virtues, some vices, — each ac- 
cording to his particular genius, and as his attention is 
attracted more readily by this or that. 

(2.) " The natural organization and temperament 
affect the memory very much, as is seen in the case of 
those whose wonderful power of memory is celebrated 
in history — such as Themistocles, Cyrus, Cineas, and 
Hortensius. 

(3.) " Those things settle deeply into the memory 
which are originally received into the mind attentively 

=^ One of the commentators on Aristotle, quoted by Hamilton in his 
Fragment on Association. 



MEMORY. 109 

and with care. Hence it often happens that men of 
the greatest genius and largely endowed with memory, 
do not remember so many things as those inferior to 
them in these gifts, because they see, read, and hear 
so inattentively. 

(4.) " When any feeling or emotion is connected with 
the first perception or recollection of any thing, it is 
afterwards remembered more easily, promptly, and for 
a longer time. Thus, the recollection of those things 
is the most permanent, whose entrance into the mind 
is accompanied with the greatest joy or grief. Hence 
it is the custom, in some nations, in establishing the 
boundary between fields, to flog the boys who are 
present, that they may recollect the boundaries more 
firmly and permanently. 

(5.) " The memory is greatly strengthened by the 
frequent use of, and meditation upon, our knowledge. 
For by this means it is made at the same time more 
ready for receiving, more capacious for holding, and 
more tenacious for retaining knowledge ; nor is there 
any faculty of the mind which more needs culture. 

(6.) " We remember those things more readily, pro- 
vided we give our attention to them, which are received 
by the mind when unoccupied by other things, and in 
an undistracted state. On this account we remember 
longer and more perfectly what we have seen and heard 
in our youth ; for the mind at that period is free from 
cares and thoughts. In youth, also, we give better 
attention to things, since at that age we admire all 
things as new, and what excites our admiration is ob- 
served more carefully, and descends more deeply into 
our minds." 

10 



110 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

15. These variations are not, properly, laws of mem- 
ory. — The variations of memory, from these and the 
like circumstances, have sometimes been called the 
secondary laws of memory. They are not, however, 
properly, laws of memory at all, but only the grounds 
or circumstances which determine the application of 
the above general laws in particular cases. Thoughts 
are always associated and recalled according to those 
general laws ; but the particular resemblances, con- 
trasts, etc., according to which the associations are 
made, differ in different cases, and are determined by 
the age, business, mental habits, etc., of each individ- 
ual. 

16. Illustrated from the case of an old Lutheran di- 
vine. — Thus, an old Lutheran divine (quoted by Ham- 
ilton), naturally regarding the pope of Rome as a 
monster, and familiar with the interpretation which 
makes the Apocalyptic Babylon only a mystical rep- 
resentation of papal Rome, reaches the recollection of 
Babylon by a chain of association starting with the 
thought of the hydra^ the monster killed by Hercules. 
Thus : " The thought of the hydra reminds me of the 
yope, the memory of him, of Rome, and the memory 
of Rome, of BabylonP An astronomer, on the con- 
trary, from his habits of association, might reach the 
memory of Babylon from an observation of the stars, 
since the Chaldeans, who lived at Babylon, were among 
the earliest cultivators of this science. 

17. Illustrated from the case of the merchant. — So, 
too, a merchant, with large risks at sea, is reminded of 
storms and shoals and other dangers to navigation, by 
what has no tendency to remind others of them ; as 



MEMORY. Ill 

Shakspeare, the greatest dissector of the thoughts, as 
well as of the "hearts of men, so well represents, in the 
opening scene of the Merchant of Venice : — 

My wind, cooling my broth, 
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought, 
What harm a wind too great might do at sea. 
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run, 
But I should think of shallows and of flats ; 
And see my wealthy Andrew doek'd in sand, 
Tailing her high-toj) lower than her ribs, 
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church, 
And see the holy edifice of stone, 
And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks ; 
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side. 
Would scatter all her spices on the stream ; 
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks ; 
And, in a word, but even now worth this. 
And now worth nothing ? 

18. Lines of association to be fixed in our thinking. — 
As the mind in reminiscence must start from some 
initial point and follow some established order of asso- 
ciation, it is necessary to fix these in our thinking, if 
we would remember well. In mathematics, and other 
matter, which, in any given case, scarcely admits of 
more than a single arrangement of the subordinate 
parts, there is no occasion for a special pre-arrangement 
in the mind. If once understood, the. parts are already 
arranged in the only practicable order, and in an order 
in which they may, at any time, be recalled by their log- 
ical dependence. But most subjects are of such a na- 
ture as to admit of various orders of arrangement 
among the different ideas pertaining to them. These, 
in order to be remembered readily, must be specially 
pre-arranged in our minds, according to the order most 
congenial to each one's particular mode of thought. 



112 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Hence the following directions for fortifying the mem- 
ory from Aquinas : — 

19. Remark of Aquinas. — " Matters which we would 
remember well, we should first endeavor to arrange in 
some appropriate order ; secondly^ we should profoundly 
and attentively consider them ; thirdly^ we should fre- 
quently run over them in their order, in meditation ; 
fourthly^ we should establish a proper point of de- 
parture.'' 

20. Reminiscence is both voluntary and involuntary. 
— Reminiscence is either voluntary or involuntary, — 
voluntary^ when, by an effort of the will, we set our- 
selves deliberately to search after some idea which we 
are in want of; involuntary^ when some remote idea 
comes suddenly into consciousness without any search 
for it. To illustrate the nature of each, I subjoin 
a few observations and illustrations from Aristotle 
and others, to be found in Hamilton's fragment on 
memory. 

21. Remark of Aristotle. — " Reminiscence," says Ar- 
istotle, " takes place, in virtue of that constitution of 
our mind, whereby each mental movement is deter- 
mined to arise as the sequel of a certain other. When, 
therefore, we accomplish an act of reminiscence, we 
pass through a certain series of precursive movements, 
until we arrive at a movement, on which the one we 
are in quest of is habitually consequent. Hence, too, 
it is that we hunt through the mental train, excogitat- 
ing what we seek, from its concomitant in the present 
or some other time, and from its similar, or contrary, 
or co-adjacent." 

22. Remark of Longinus. — " For as dogs," says 
Longinus, " having once found the footsteps of their 



MEMORY. 1 13 

game, follow from trace to trace, deeming it already- 
all but caught ; so he, who would recover his past cog- 
nitions from oblivion, must speculate the parts which 
remain to him of these cognitions, and the circum- 
stances with which they chance to be connected, to the 
end that he may light on something which shall serve 
him as a starting-point, from whence to follow out his 
recollection of the others." 

23. Example of involuntary reminiscence from Hobbes. 
— A fine example of involuntary reminiscence is given 
by Hobbes in the Leviathan : " In a discourse of our pres- 
ent civil war^ what could seem more impertinent, than 
to ask, as one did, what was the value of the Roman 
penny ; yet the coherence to me was manifest enough. 
For the thought of the luar introduced the thought 
of the delivering' up of the king to his enemies ; the 
thought of that brought in the thought of the delivering 
up of Christ; and that again, the thought of the thirty 
pence^ which was the price of that treason ; and thence 
easily followed that malicious question, and all this in 
a moment of time ; for thought is quickP 

24. Mnemonics. — As to artificial sytems for aiding the 
memory, as Mnemonics, they are of very limited appli- 
cation at best, being scarcely applicable to any thing 
but figures, and are all in the wrong direction ; since 
the associations are almost entirely arbitrary, and the 
system of symbols, though perhaps somewhat more 
easily remembered than the things represented by them, 
are not only of no value in themselves, but even non- 
sensical. 

25. We cannot control the sequence^ hut only the lines 
of association. — Reminiscence, as we have seen, is in 
part, involuntary, and always follows by a necessary 

10* 



114 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

sequence, when the line of association is hit upon. 
When the association is once established, we cannot 
control the sequence. But the lines of association are, 
to a great extent, under our control. These we may 
pre-arrange, and by purity and uprightness of purpose 
and life, may keep our associations also pure and right. 
Besides, when wrong thoughts are suggested to us by 
association, we are not obliged to entertain them, any 
more than when presented by the senses ; much less 
are we obliged to act upon them. 



SECTION V. 
ASSOCIATIVE AND LOGICAL THOUGHT. 

1. Reminiscence and reasoning distinguished. — Rem- 
iniscence, as we have seen, is a movement or progress 
in thought from one particular to another, sometimes 
voluntary, and sometimes involuntary. In like manner, 
also, logical thinking is a discursive movement through 
a connected series of ideas. But logical thinking is 
chiefly, if not exclusively, voluntary. Besides, logical 
thought, or reasoning, proceeds by ideas as contained by 
and containing each other, respectively ; whereas rem- 
iniscence proceeds by ideas only contingently connected^ 
or associated, according to certain laws of mental sug- 
gestion, not as contained one under the other, or neces- 
sarily implying each other. Association, then, proceeds 
by contingent relations, reasoning by natural or neces- 
sary relations. The latter is a much higher kind of 
thought, as being regularly voluntary, and determined 
only by a perceived dependence among ideas. 

2. The logical order of thoughts. — Among the ideas 




MEMORY. 115 

pertaining to any subject, there is a certain order to 
which the intellect assents as fit, appropriate, or true, 
as opposed to the casual order in which they occur in 
the promiscuous experience of life, and in which they 
are remembered. This is their natural order, or when 
the inquiry is after truth, their logical order. When- 
ever our thoughts on any subject are so arranged, that 
the intellect admits the sequence of one from the other, 
as where they stand related as means and end, premises 
and conclusion, cause and effect, part and whole, etc., 
they are arranged in their logical order. Ideas so ar- 
ranged are not so much a subject of memory as of 
thought. "When viewed in these relations, the process of 
passing from one to the other is logical, not associative. 
The mind which feels the force of the reasoning traces 
the process logically the first time it goes over it, and 
equally so, though with increased rapidity and ease, at 
all subsequent times. 

3. Reasoning' is a subject of memory in its outward 
relations. — Still, as remarked in a previous section, 
when the steps of a reasoning are once drawn out, they 
may, in their merely outward relations, be made matter 
of memory, and thus a semblance of knowledge be ob- 
tained, instead of the reality. For, besides that remi- 
niscence is vastly less reliable for recalling the steps of 
the process, than logical thought, the mind is only bur- 
dened by a succession of associated points, instead of 
being enriched by a series of dependent thoughts lead- 
ing to some important conclusion. Hence so much 
importance attaches to our arranging our thoughts on 
all subjects as much as possible in their logical order, 
that they may become matter of inspiring thought, 
rather than a mere dead weight of details upon the 
memory. 



116 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

4. All science is arranged in the logical order. — 
And it is surprising how large a part of the materials 
of thought may be thus arranged. All science natu- 
rally arranges itself thus. The treatment of any subject 
becomes a science, only as its materials are arranged in 
their knowable order, which is their natural or logical 
order. The materials of every science must be ar- 
ranged under the relations of means and end, prem- 
ises and conclusions, media and proof, part and whole, 
cause and effect, or of some other necessary or mutu- 
ally implied relations. 

5. History may be so arranged to a considerable ex- 
tent. — And even history has been said to be but " phi- 
losophy teaching by examples.'' At first its materials 
seem to be only a confused mass of facts, and, such they 
probably always remain to most minds. But when 
profoundly studied by a mind of a philosophical turn, 
they soon begin to marshal themselves as causes and 
effects, principles and illustrations, means and ends, and 
the like. History, when understood in its internal na- 
ture, is not merely a succession of events connected by 
the thread of time, but a dependent succession, con- 
nected by the thread of thought. 

6. So may even geography and much of the common ex- 
perience of life. — So, too, of geography and the daily ex- 
perience of life, much is capable of being connected by 
a thread of dependent, and not merely associated 
thought. We have no occasion to remember that large 
cities are upon the coasts, rivers, and the great chan- 
nels of communication ; we know that in the nature 
of things they necessarily must be. For their particu- 
lar locations on these coasts, etc., and their individual 
names, we rely upon memory, as we must for all indi- 



MEMORY. 117 

vidual, isolated facts. But in all the great subjects of 
study and attention, there is an internal connection of 
parts, an underlying theory, which really explicates the 
whole nature of the subject, and which is traced by 
thought rather than by memory. 

7. Incoherence of thought an evidence of a diseased 
miyid. — As the result of the laws of association and 
logical thought, the ideas of the mind, in a healthy 
state, always have a certain order and coherence about 
them. Any considerable degree of incoherence in the 
thoughts is always taken as evidence of a diseased 
state of mind. Insanity is but a wild incoherence of 
thought, and the ravings of the maniac only a setting 
at naught of the ordinary laws of associative and logi- 
cal thinking. 



SECTION VI. 
IMPORTANCE OF MEMORY. 



1. All our faculties are necessary for the complete- 
ness of knowledge. — Absolutely, memory is as indis- 
pensable to the general purposes of thought and of life 
as any other faculty. No faculty can be dispensed 
with; they are all necessary for the acquisition, the 
retention, and the arrangement of knowledge. The 
facts received by the senses are preserved by the mem- 
ory, and arranged and reasoned upon by the other fac- 
ulties. The loss of either of the faculties would be 
fatal to the completeness of knowledge. Indeed, it is 
not quite clear that any one of the faculties can act 
without the co-operation of some of the others. At all 
events, it is certain that in our mature experience, not 



118 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

only does one sense greatly assist another, but one fac- 
ulty, also, another. Still, the different faculties have 
different, and, in the main, distinct offices to perform, 
which must relatively, at least, differ in importance. 

2. But relatively memory is inferior to perception. — 
Relatively, then, memory is inferior in importance to 
perception. It is not, like perception, a receptive fac- 
ulty. .It does not, like that, furnish the primitive ma- 
terials of thought, nor indeed, any original materials. 
It is simply the faculty of retaining or recalling v^hat 
has been furnished by the senses and our internal ex- 
perience. We might have a passing knowledge of 
facts without memory, "^'^ but without perception, we 
could have no knowledge at all. Memory is wholly 
dependent upon perception, but not perception upon 
memory. 

3. Also to reason. — In the scale of the human facul- 
ties, memory ranks below the reason, also. It cannot 
be said, indeed, that reason is wholly independent of 
memory in its operations, although the logical relations 
of things, as we have seen, are traced by the reason 
alone. The assistance rendered by the memory here, 
is in bringing these relations to the view of the reason 
and holding them before it till their mutual dependence 
is perceived and felt. AH comparison and judging of 
relations between ideas necessarily involve memory. 
But reason is the distinguishing endowment of man, 
and must, therefore, be higher than either perception or 

* Hamilton makes memory a condition of perception. But if so, how 
could there ever be a first perception, since there can be no memory an- 
tecedent to experience ? Doubtless memory greatly assists perception, 
in our mature experience, but perception cannot be wholly dependent 
upon its co-operation. 



MEMORY. 119 

memory, which are possessed by the lower orders of 
animals. Its movements are more independent, being 
determined by its own spontaneous energy, rather than 
from without. 

4. Experience shows this. — The attempt so often 
made, by a certain order of minds, to make memory do 
the work of reason, shows its vast inferiority to that 
godlike power. Memory attempts to retain knowl- 
edge as a succession of facts barely associated together 
by contingent relations, while reason arranges them 
according to their relations of mutual dependence, and 
thus connects them by a line of thought, which can be 
traced at any time. And although a vast amount of 
knowledge may be retained by the memory, when thus 
taxed with a double duty, yet it is comparatively unin- 
structive, and rests like an incubus upon the mind, pre- 
venting all free and fruitful action. 

5. But memory is not an unimportant power ^ as ap- 
pears from its connection with the imagination. — But 
memory, in its proper office, is far from being a use- 
less or unimportant faculty. As a reproductive power, 
it seems to be generically the same as imagination. 
The only difference between the two powers is, that 
memory recalls perceived objects as wholes, precisely 
as they occuiTed to sense ; while imagination repro- 
duces them disconnected from their surroundings, or 
in fragments, or variously mixed and compounded, so 
that they are no longer simple representations of what 
has been perceived, though always made up of the ele- 
ments of what has been perceived. Memory, then, is 
of the same general nature as imagination, but is evi- 
dently an inferior energy. It is wholly confined to 
things as perceivedjwhile imagination creates new forms 



120 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

from perceived elements. IJence, though a good mem- 
ory may exist without a fine imagination, a fine imag- 
ination must always be accompanied by a good mem- 
ory. When the representative faculty rises high enough 
to constitute a lofty imagination, it must necessarily 
embrace the lower energy of memory ; though it may 
rise high enough to constitute a good memory, without 
reaching the elevation necessary to a fine imagination. 
And this we find to be the case in fact. A man with 
a vivid imagination always has a good memory, though 
we often see persons with a good memory who have 
but an indifferent imagination. Memory, therefore, 
though often existing without genius, and far from 
being a uniform sign of genius, necessarily accompa- 
nies it, as far as genius consists in extraordinary powers 
of imagination. 

6. Its importance is best seen in practical life, — But 
it is in practical life that the importance of memory 
appears the most conspicuously. The details of every- 
day life must mainly be committed to the memory. 
They cannot, to any great extent, be arranged in the 
order of mutual dependence, and thus be recalled by 
logical thought ; they can generally be reached only 
through association and habit. This is especially the 
case in the heterogeneous and multifarious duties of 
private and business life. And even the professional 
man and the scholar must rely largely on the memory 
in the prosecution of their duties. After all that can 
be done in arranging their knowledge in its logical 
order, there must necessarily remain a vast amount of 
detached and loose material, hovering within the sphere 
of their action, and essential to their success, which can 
be connected only by association, and recalled only by 
memory. 



MEMORY. 121 

7. Memory is alUimportant in its place. — Memory, 
therefore, though not relatively one of the very highest 
endowments of the mind, is yet, in its place, a highly 
useful power, and deserving, like all the other faculties, 
of the most assiduous cultivation. What has dispar- 
aged memory most, is the attempt, so often made, to 
substitute it for reason, and make it do its work. Such 
an attempt is always unsuccessful, and exposes mem- 
ory to reproach. Besides, as it is entirely unnatural 
and out of place, such an attempt seems to imply a 
want of reason in the one who makes it, and hence be- 
gets a contempt for an order of mind in which memory 
is largely developed. Memory, like the other faculties, 
is most honored and improved when confined to its 
proper sphere, and within that, tasked to the utmost on 
all occasions requiring its use. 
11 



CHAPTER V. 

IMAGINATION. 

SECTION I. 
NATURE OF IMAGINATION. 

1. Imagination distinguished from other powers. — 
"Imagination* or Phantasy," says Sir "W. Hamilton, 
" in its most extensive meaning, is the faculty represen- 
tative of the phenomena both of the external and inter- 
nal world.'^ Imagination is thus distinguished gener- 
ically from perception and self-consciousness, which 
are faculties presentative or intuitive^ — the one of the 
phenomena of the external, and the other of those of 
the internal world. On the contrary, imagination and 
memory are distinguished from each other only spe- 
cifically. They are generically alike, in both being rep- 
resentative faculties, — specifically different, inasmuch 
as memory represents an object with its surroundings 
as it actually came into the mind"; while imaginatidfi 
represents an object out of its original connections, or 
in some way distorted, or combined with other im- 
ages. 

2. Imagination and memory. — In consequence of 

*^ " The Latin imaginatio, with its modifications in the vulgar languages, 
was employed both in ancient and modern times to express what the 
Greeks denominated ^avraoia. Phantasy, of which Phancy, or Fancy, 
is a corruption, and now employed in a more limited sense, was a com- 
mon name for Imagination with the old English Writers." — Hamilton, 



IMAGINATION. 123 

this difference between memory and imagination, the 
representative thought in the former is taken as the un- 
doubted counterpart of what actually has been^ while 
in the latter it is taken only as a representation of what 
possibly may be. Hence, the one involves an absolute 
belief in the (former) existence of the object as repre- 
sented^ while the other does not. The images, in 
imagination, are recognized as mere images. When 
I remember any object, as a house, a tree, a tune, 
I think of it with its surroundings, just as it came 
into the mind; but when I simply imagine such an ob- 
ject, I disconnect it from its surroundings, and give it 
any position, or conjoin it with any other object, as I 
choose. Tlius, I can imagine a tree inverted in the 
air, an anthem chanted by angels, or a human face at- 
tached to the neck of a horse. 

3. Imagination only combines perceived elements. — 
Imagination, however, is limited for its materials to 
what has been actually perceived, either by external or 
internal perception. It creates no new elements of its 
own. It can combine the elements received through 
perception in innumerable forms and proportions — can 
variously attenuate, spiritualize, idealize them, — but 
can never wholly • transcend them. Centaurs and 
Sphinxes, as well as the infinite succession of images 
presented by poets and other imaginative writers, are 
all composed of materials furnished by perception 
and self-consciousness, — only variously arranged, com- 
pounded, diminished, distorted, sublimated, or ideal- 
ized. The giant of the imagination is only a man 
enlarged, and the Venus of Praxiteles, or the Fairy 
Queen of Spenser, only the ideal of all that is fair in 
woman. 



124 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

4. The images of the imagination are concrete. — 
Hence, too, the images of the imagination must always 
be concrete in form. Things are perceived only in their 
concrete form, and the representations of the imagina- 
tion being wholly composed of the elements of per- 
ceived objects, — not of an abstract of their qualities, — 
must also be concrete. The most extravagant and gro- 
tesque images of the Oriental imagination, embodied in 
their monsters or gods, are but the exaggerated forms 
of various heterogeneous parts, limbs, organs, etc., com- 
bined into certain fantastic wholes. The thinking of 
abstract or generalized ideas is conception, * not imag- 
ination. 

5. Images are either drawn from the inspection of 
objects^ or are suggested. — Sometimes we form these 
images from a direct inspection or recollection of the dif- 
ferent objects from which they are compounded. Thus 
the sculptor forms his ideal image of the perfect human 
form which he wishes to represent, from a combination 
of the most perfect limbs, organs, lines, and features, 
which he has observed in different persons. So the 
painter forms his fancy landscape by combining in his 
picture the most attractive features in the different 
scenes which he has witnessed. But in other cases, 

^ This is in accordance with the better usage of philosophers ; though 
Mr. Stewart makes conception merely that form of imagination which 
consists in reproducing, without change, what has been previously per- 
ceived. Conception, as the act of thinking, realizing, or construing some- 
thing to the mind, is of the same general character as imagination, and 
hence is often used in referring to the thought of individual, concrete 
things, especially of such as really present no adequate image, as sounds, 
flavors, and odors ; or where the image is reached through a process of 
comparison and combination, as in case of the ideal embodied in a work 
of art, or the hypothesis by which the different parts of the solar system, 
or other related phenomena, are connected in the mind. 



IMAGINATION. 125 

images come to us ready formed, being suggested by- 
something present to the mind. The unreal images 
of the imagination, like the real images of memory, 
and the thoughts and feelings of our rational and emo- 
tional nature, are suggested, or recur, according to fixed 
laws and relations, such as those already described in 
the chapter on memory. 

6. The images contained in figures of speech are sug- 
gested. — It is in this latter way that the images con- 
tained in figures of speech are awakened. In thinking 
or writing upon any subject we faU upon ideas which, 
by resemblance, contrast, or the relations of cause and 
effect, part and whole, etc., suggest other ideas or im- 
ages, which are either directly introduced as illustrations 
of the thought under consideration, or, by the use of 
some term which is applicable to the related rather 
than to the main thought, are suggested to the mind of 
the reader or hearer. Thus, in speaking of the period 
of youth, I may be reminded, by resemblance, of the 
spring, and say directly, in the form of an illustrative 
comparison, " youth, like the spring, is fresh and bloom- 
ing," or, on the same principle of resemblance, I may 
be reminded by it of the opening of day, and say of it, 
by a metaphor, " youth is the morning of life.'' And 
thus of the other figures of speech, used more or less 
by all writers, but especially by those of the imagina- 
tive sort, and treated of in books on Rhetoric. 

7. These images come either voluntarily or involunta- 
rily. — And here, too, as in reminiscence, the suggested 
images either come unbidden, or only after a predeter- 
mined search. They always come involuntarily in 
sleep, and for the most part, also, in our waking hours. 
But not unfrequently, in thinking or writing upon any 

11* 



126 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

subject, having brought the discussion to a certain 
point, or having reached a certain idea which seems 
specially to require illustration or adornment, we halt, 
and cast about for some image fitted to illuminate or 
beautify it. This must be done to some extent by all 
writers, and especially by those of no more than ordinary 
liveliness of imagination, in any elaborate or finished 
style. Thus Demosthenes, wishing to animate the 
Athenians in their contest against Philip, and inspire 
them with confidence in the favor of the gods towards 
the city, notwithstaftding some recent reverses, closes a 
series of observations on the subject by the following 
apt and striking illustration, which condenses the whole 
spirit and force of what he had previously said into a 
single burning point : " I think it is with the favors 
of the gods as with the gifts of fortune ; if we retain 
and improve them, we retain also our gratitude for 
them ; but if we misimprove and lose them, we at the 
same time lose our gratitude — our state of mind in 
each case being very much determined by the last 
event." 

8. Fancy as distinguished from imagination. — The 
lighter, more airy, more capricious movements of the 
imagination are called fancy. An image is said to be 
fanciful, when it is not suggested by an obvious, natu- 
ral, substantial similarity, which is approved on reflec- 
tion as sound and important, but by some casual, facti- 
tious, unobvious, slight, shadowy, or recondite similar- 
ity, which occurs only to minds of a peculiar cast, or to 
the ordinary mind, only in its gayer, more sportive and 
fantastic moods. The fancy forms such characters as 
Ariel and Queen Mab, the imagination such as Cala- 
ban, the Satan of Milton, or the Mephistopheles of 



IMAGINATION. 127 

Goethe. The Paradise Lost is more the work of the 
imagination, the L' Allegro and Il'Penseroso, of the 
fancy ; the plays of Skakspeare and the discourses of 
Jeremy Taylor are woven of materials supplied about 
equally by each. 

9. Fancy ^ conceits^ wit, etc, — Fancies are the play- 
ful, subtile, evanescent, witching, and often, affected 
and extravagant, images of the imagination. At the 
same time. Conceits are only affected fancies, and Wit, 
which aims at producing pleasurable surprise, by plac- 
ing words or images in unexpected or unusual relations 
to each other, works chiefly by this faculty. So, the 
Ludicrous and the Grotesque, which depend upon odd 
or fantastic conjunctions among ideas, are but the 
wanton freaks of fancy. 



SECTION II. 
USES OF THE IMAGINATION. 



1. Imagination one of the chief constituents of genius, — 
In order to the possession of any thing which deserves 
the name of intelligence, knowledge must, at least, be 
obtained, preserved, and arranged. Sense, memory, and 
understanding, therefore, are absolutely indispensable to 
any proper intelligence. Imagination, however (as dis- 
tinguished from memory), does not seem to be thus ab- 
solutely essential to intelligence; and hence, more minds, 
perhaps, are deficient in this power, than in any other. 
This, however, does not prove imagination to be an in- 
ferior gift, but rather the reverse. We might live and 
know without it; but our life becomes nobler, and our 
knowledge grander with it. The intelligence which 



128 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

has simply the least number of powers necessary for 
knowing, is the lowest form of intelligence, and every 
additional power, as being a rarer, is also a higher, gift. 
Thus it is with the imagination, — it is among the 
higher and diviner gifts of the mind. It is one of the 
chief constituents of genius. 

2. Is of great service in conversation. — But to pro- 
ceed to particulars ; the imagination is of great service 
in conversation. As one could not converse at all with- 
out memory, so he cannot converse well, i.e., Vvdth any 
elegance or force, without imagination. Any topic of 
conversation is comparatively barren of interest, and 
soon exhausted, if considered simply by itself, or only in 
its commonest relations. But when amplified, by fol- 
lowing it out in its logical connections, by clustering 
about it associated thoughts, and illustrating and adorn- 
ing it by appropriate comparisons, figures, and images, 
drawn from the wide range of analogies throughout na- 
ture, the dryest subject becomes attractive. As con- 
versation is best when somewhat discursive, proceed- 
ing from one related thought to another in an easy and 
graceful manner, and drawing in materials from a wide 
range of objects, no faculty is more serviceable to the 
converser than the imagination or fancy. Its light and 
airy movements buoy up the mind and bear it along 
with nimbleaess through pleasing and deversified fields 
of thought. 

3. Is of great service to the orator. — Imagination is 
of great service to the orator ; not so much, however, 
in giving a light discursiveness to his thoughts, as in 
giving them vividness and life. The Orator must think 
thoroughly and systematically, but the line of his 
thoughts must be illuminated and vivified through its 



IMAGINATION. 129 

whole extent by the imagination. The source of this 
life and power, doubtless, is passion, but passion 
arouses the imagination and opens its storehouse of 
images. The figures of the orator are chiefly what 
rhetoricians call figures of passion^ i.e., figures of the 
imagination called forth by passion. They are of the 
vivid, the strong, and the illustrative sort, rather than 
of the calm and beautiful. 

4. Illustrated from Demosthenes. — The object of 
the orator is, to carry his hearers with him, — to make 
them converts to his ideas and purposes. Hence, he 
must secure their attention, must make his ideas palpa- 
ble and vivid and convince them that he is thoroughly 
in earnest. Beyond the simple power of logical 
thought, his most important auxiliary for doing this is 
the imagination. Thus, to quote again from that most 
cogent and earnest of orators, and master of the illus- 
trative comparison; Demosthenes, having exhausted all 
his power of direct appeal and argument in attempting 
to arouse the Athenians from their tardy and fitful 
policy in opposing Philip, closes an indignant strain of 
remark upon that point by the famous comparison of 
the unskilful boxer : " O Athenians ! your contest with 
Philip is like that of unpractised boxers against their 
antagonists ; who, struck in one place, cover it with 
their hand, — struck in another, place their hand there ; 
and thus, always occupied with the blows they receive, 
know not how to strike and defend themselves." 

5. The imagination is a great aid to the poet, — The 
imagination is a great aid to the poet. It is by 
this power, more than by all others, that the genuine 
poem is made. A true poem is but a tissue of vari- 
ous and softly blending images drawn from " all that 



130 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

is fair and bright" through the universe. Selecting 
some of the loftier, more afiecting, or more interesting 
themes, the poet, as he advances, traces in imagina- 
tion the long lines of analogies, both material and 
spiritual, connected with each succeeding thought, and 
instinctively appropriating such images as are best 
calculated to beautify and ennoble his theme, sets 
them as gems in the general ground of his subject. 
Those striking and pleasing ornaments, which sparkle 
thus on the pages of Homer, of Shakspeare, of Milton, 
and other great poets, are all the work of the imagina- 
tion. 

6. Also to other classes of writers. — And thus, to 
some extent, of all writers.' There are few species of 
writing which are not improved by an occasional figure 
of the imagination. The philosophical style, perhaps, 
should wholly eschew tropes, but there is no kind of 
style which does not admit of, and which may not be 
greatly improved by, the illustrative comparison. In 
the treatment of almost any subject, there are points 
in the progress of the thought where an illustrative 
comparison, founded upon some striking analogy, 
may be made to illuminate the whole matter. These 
a good writer always feels the need of at such points, 
and if they do not occur to him at once, searches for 
them in his imagination. 

7. Is indispensable to the artist. — Imagination is in- 
dispensable to the artist Painters and sculptors, even 
more than poets, have to dq with images. Where they 
copy direct from nature, they must first form in the 
mind a connected image of the object or scene. But 
in the higher efforts of art, the object or scene is always 
more or less ideal ; i.e., it is a model formed in the im- 



IMAGINATION. 131 

agination, composed, indeed, of elements which have 
been perceived, but so selected, arranged, and retouched 
by the fancy, as to be more perfect than ever actually 
occurs in any one object or scene in nature. "Without 
this there can be no high art. An imagination capable 
of forming appropriate ideals is an indispensable requi- 
site for an artist. 

8. Is a great assistance to the student of nature. — 
The imagination, also, is a great assistance to the stu- 
dent of nature. All objects, and systems of objects, in 
nature, have a certain conformity and relation of parts, 
and all agents, a certain definite mode of operation, 
which we must be able to form a correct image of. be- 
fore we can understand either the objects or their rela- 
tions, or the operation of agents. The manner in which 
we image out to ourselves these objects, their relations, 
and modes of action, constitutes our theory, hypothesis, 
or conception, * in the case. When our conception is 
proved to be in accordance with all the facts in the 
case, it is no longer hypothesis, but knowledge. Thus, 
the Ptolemaic conception of the solar system was grad- 
ually changed and purified, till in the mind of Newton 
it was brought into conformity with nature, and is now 
familiarly illustrated by a concrete sensible illustration, 
in the orrery. In reaching such a result, the imagina- 
tion performs an important part. The physical philos- 
opher succeeds in interpreting nature, just in proportion 
to his capacity of forming correct conceptions of the 
relations and modes of action between objects and 
agents, from hints, analogies, etc. 

^ Called conception, because reached through a process of comparison 
and combination, though there is really nothing but a concrete image 
formed in the case. See Sec. 1 . note 2d. 



132 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

9. Also to the student of geometry^ geography^ and 
Jiistory. — In a similar way, the imagination greatly as- 
sists the student of geometry^ of geography^ and of his- 
tory. Geometric figures, whether applying to the heav- 
enly bodies, to the earth, or to empty space, consist of a 
certain combination of lines, surfaces, and angles, con- 
stituting a definite outline or form, which must be dis- 
tinctly imaged as a whole in the mind before they can 
be constructed, or understood in their application, or 
even well retained, supposing them already constructed 
to our hand. Consequently, the success of the student 
of geometry must depend largely upon the facility with 
which his imagination pictures the outline and relation 
of parts in a figure. So in geography and history, 
one's ideas must always be extremely vague and inad- 
equate, and his progress but small, unless he readily 
catches the image of coasts, rivers, mountains, cities, 
costumes, fortifications, plans of campaigns, lines of 
march, orders of battle, and the general figure and rela- 
tions of men and things on the earth, from such hints 
and descriptions as can be conveyed by language. 

10. Is of little or no service to the abstract thinker. — 
The mere thinker or speculator in abstract truth, and 
things wholly immaterial, is less assisted by the imag- 
ination tjian any other class of men. The logical re- 
lations of ideas are developed wholly by reason, with- 
out any aid from the imagination. Nay, the imagi- 
nation, by obtruding its impertinent images, is often 
a great hinderance to success in such speculations. 
But though of little service to the abstract thinker and 
reasoner, the imagination, as is implied in what has al- 
ready been said, is of the greatest importance to the 
inductive discoverer, as well as to the analogical and 



IMAGINATION. 133 

general reasoner. In such Idnds of reasoning there is 
a demand for something besides logical inference. 
There is room for the play of the imagination, and it 
plays with the best effect in suggesting media of proof 
and means of illustration. The discursive power of the 
mind lies wholly in the imagination (including the 
memory) and the reason ; and all invention, discovery, 
and advancement of the boundaries of thought, as well 
as the enriching and beautifying of our ideas, depend 
upon these powers. 



SECTION III. 

TRAINING OF THE IMAGINATION. 



1. Tlie imagination needs chastening as well as 
strengthening, — The great influence of the imagina- 
tion, both for good and for evil, on our intellectual hab- 
its and pursuits, makes its proper training an object 
of the utmost importance. On the one hand, it needs 
strengthening and developing, on the other, curbing 
and chastening. If it be well to have a ready and vig- 
orous imagination, it must still be subject to reason and 
taste. And while it is strengthened, like the other facul- 
ties, by use, it is chastened by being used only in sub- 
ordination to the dictates of reason and taste. Now, 
there are three ways in which the imagination may be 
used, and thus strengthened and improved, when used 
aright. It may be employed in forming and contem- 
plating the images presented by the objects of nature, 
or those suggested by the writings or works of men, or 
in combining and embodying these in works of our 
12 



134 



INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



own. Each is a useful exercise of the faculty, though 
differing somewhat in their effects. 

2. It may derive images direct from nature. — What- 
ever we perceive, and, more especially, whatever we 
perceive by the eye, by the ear, or by the touch, leaves 
its image in the mind, or rather is capable of being im- 
aged by the mind afterwards. Wherever we go, there- 
fore, among the works of God, we are filling the im- 
agination with images. The hills, the vales, the 
mountains, the forests, the rivers, the ocean, the sky, 
abound in objects whose images may be used in illus- 
trating and adorning our ideas, or be embodied in works 
of art for the instruction and admiration of others. 

3. But these are valuable only ivhen the result of 
careful observation. — But it is not sufficient simply to 
ramble among the works of nature. One may do this 
and get but little that is valuable. Only those im- 
ages are of much value which are true to nature, and 
hence characteristic. The variety of nature is endless 
and inexhaustible, so that it has been said, that no two 
leaves, even from the same tree or shrub, are exact fac- 
similes of each other in the lines which variegate the 
surface. Hence, a writer whose imagination is filled 
with images which are exact copies of natural objects, 
will never fail in variety and freshness. But to obtain 
these, natnre must be closely scrutinized, and every ob- 
ject be perceived exactly as it is. This, of course, can 
be done only by the most careful and accurate obser- 
vation. Hence, again, we see the vast importance of 
having an ever-wakeful attention, wherever we are, and 
however engaged. He who is much abroad among 
the works of nature, and observes objects with a care- 
ful and wakeful attention, is filling his mind with an 



i 

t 

\ 

\\ 
\ 



IMAGINATION. 135 

inexhaustible store of the most pleasing and useful 
images. 

4. The imagination may be improved^ also^ by the 
study of books and art, — ^ The imagination is im- 
proved, also, by reading books, and contemplating 
works of art. The writings of men, — especially those 
of the imaginative sort, as fiction and poetry, — and the 
various creations of art, embody the best conceptions or 
combinations of images of which the human imagina- 
tion is capable, and hence are most useful studies for 
the improvement of this faculty. These, however, and 
particularly as presented in books, are to the reader 
but suggested images. They are, at best, but images 
at second-hand, — images of images, — and hence, nec- 
essarily more or less imperfect, inadequate, and indis- 
tinct. This they would be, supposing them to have 
been original and exact in the mind of the writer who 
employs them ; but a large part of them have come 
down, as commonplaces, through a long series of writers, 
one borrowing them from the other, till they have lost 
all freshness and point. They are no longer the dis- 
tinct, characteristic images of nature, but only their dim 
and wasted ghosts. No book, therefore, nor work of 
art even, can be compared with nature as a study for 
improving the imagination, and too many of these pro- 
ductions tend rather to pervert than to improve the 
power. 

5. And most of all in combining images for works 
of our oivn. — Again, we improve our imagination by 
embodying its images in works of our own, or, more 
properly, by employing it in forming images for the 
purpose of embodying them in some production of our 
own. In the previous cases, the imagination is com- 



136 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

paratively passive, but here it is decidedly active. The 
artist who is at work in forming and embodying his 
ideal, and the poet, or other writer, who sends forth his 
imagination, at every step, in quest of some appropri- 
ate image to illustrate or adorn his ideas, is exercising 
his imagination in the most effectual way. The other 
methods furnish the imagination with the materials for 
its images, this practises it in producing and combin- 
ing them, as the case requires. And, as is the case in 
the exercise of the other faculties, every creative effort 
of the imagination strengthens it for another effort of 
the same kind, till at length we acquire a facility in 
calling images to our aid, as we need them, which 
astonishes ourselves. 

6. But the imagination should be subject to a sound 
taste. — But the imagination does not need strength- 
ening alone, it needs chastening. It will be to little 
purpose that we are able to call up images, if they are 
not appropriate. Improper images employed by a 
writer are worse than no images at all. A strong im- 
agination, without a just taste^ is a dangerous power. 
Hence, the imagination should never be cultivated to 
the neglect of the taste, but only in connection with 
and in subordination to it. It is the special province 
of taste to control the imagination in the use of ima- 
gery. Without this the imagination becomes grotesque 
and fantastic. 

7. Also to an enlightened reason. — Nor should the 
imagination be allowed to override, or in any way 
to interfere with, reason. Bishop Butler, who was a 
sturdy thinker, calls the imagination a '' forward, delu- 
sive faculty, ever obtruding beyond its sphere." And 
this, undoubtedly, is its tendency. If the reason be not 



IMAGINATION. , 137 

cultivated and made to assert its authority, the imagi- 
nation usurps its place, and substitutes its wild and 
empty images for truth. It does this with the savage, 
and with all, just in proportion as the cultivation of 
their rational powers is neglected, so that they are in- 
capable of distinguishing truth from fancy. 

8. Otherwise it interferes with thinking, — As already 
remarked, any great vigor of imagination is probably 
of no advantage to the mere deductive reasoner or in- 
vestigator of abstract truth. It would, of course, be 
an aid to him in setting forth the results of his inves- 
tigations in a popular way to others, but as a mere in- 
vestigator of truth in its logical and abstract relations, 
it is rather a hinderance than a help to him. To such 
a one, it is truly a "delusive faculty." It not only 
thrusts forward its vain images for truth, but by its 
wild and capricious habits of association, often diverts 
the attention, and draws off the mind from the direct 
line of thought. 

9. And becor/ies wild and fantastic. — While, there- 
fore, it is necessary to strengthen and cultivate the im- 
agination, it is necessary at the same time to cultivate 
the other powers, and especially the taste and the rea- 
son, to which it owes subordination. If these be not 
cultivated in conjunction with it, the imagination being 
unrestrained, runs riot, and does violence to all propri- 
ety and truth. 

12* 



. CHAPTER VI. 

CONCEPTION. 

SECTION I. 
NATURE OF CONCEPTION. 

1. Definition of conception. — Conception means 
taking together^ in allusion to the common marks or 
attributes of different objects, which are taken together 
or thought as one nature, in the act. Conception de- 
notes both the power of thus grasping the common 
nature of different related objects, the act of doing it, 
and the result or product of the act ; though the latter 
is sometimes, and more properly, called a concept. Con- 
ception, therefore, corresponds to the Simple Appre- 
hension of the Logicians ; and the concept, as embrac- 
ing certain attributes and hence characterized by certain 
marks, means the same as Notion, or General Notion, 
which is kindred to the Latin notcB (marks). 

2. Nature of the cognition in conception. — Conceiv- 
ing, then, is cognizing objects, not by their individual 
features and peculiarities, as is done in perception, but 
by certain common features, to the neglect of individ- 
ual peculiarities. It is thus rather thinking of objects, 
than perceiving them. The concept, being indifferently 
applicable to any one of a class of related objects, rep- 
resents no particular object existing in time and space, 
but only some possible object. But its marks or attri- 
butes must not be contradictory of each other, so that 



d 



J 



CONCEPTION. 139 

we cannot think them together, and hence cannot sup- 
pose them capable of co-existing in any object what- 
ever. Standing thus as the representative of no one 
particular object, the concept is capable of being fixed, 
so as to be reproducible in thought, only in some repre- 
sentative sign, as a word^ or other symbol. Concepts, 
then, have no specific embodiment except in general 
terms, or common names. In the operations oT thought, 
they are regularly suggested or recalled by these, and 
indifferently applied, as the case may require, to any 
individual of the class designated by the term. 

3. A concept cannot be represefitedin a concrete image. 

— But although the concept is thus fixed, or individu- 
alized, in a common term, and is capable of being ap- 
plied in thought to any one of the class of objects 
whose common attributes it includes, still, as not em- 
bracing the special nature and peculiarities of any par- 
ticular sensible object, — i.e., as not being a simple 
intuition of some one object, — it is incapable of being 
itself presented in a concrete image. As, however, the 
concept embraces only compatible attributes, it is al- . 
ways capable of individualization in a possible object 
of intuition, and is often so individualized in its appli- 
cation to the different objects of the class which it rep- 
resents. In such application, when consciously and 
formally made, the imagination presents the individual 
to which it is made ; as where the general concept of 
man is applied to this or tha,t particular man. This, 
however, is imagination, not conception. 

4. Hoio we may have a concept of a general triangle. 

— Hence we see how we may have such a concept as 
that of a general triangle, which is neither equilateral, 
isosceles, nor scalene, and yet is virtually each and all 



140 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

of these. It is obvious, at once, that there can be no 
such general notion of triangle as shall, at the same 
timej embrace all the possible varieties of triangle. A 
triangle which shall be at once oblique and rectangle, 
equilateral and scalene, is clearly inconceivable, since 
it is required that it have contradictory attributes, which 
cannot be thought together. It was on this ground 
that such a general notion was rejected by Hobbes, 
Berkeley, Hume, etc. But no such concept is contended 
for by any intelligent advocate of general notions. In- 
deed, such a concept, were it possible, would not be a 
general notion, as it would embrace the special features 
of triangles of all forms. All that is required is, that 
there should be such a general notion of a triangle as 
is capable of being applied in thought to every form of 
the triangle at different time^ as occasion requires us to 
reason about this or that sort of triangle. Such a con- 
cept of a triangle is simply that of a figure having three 
sides and three angles, without any regard to the spe- 
cial character of those sides and angles. 

5. It is not generally necessary to individualize our 
concepts in using them, — But in using our concepts in 
thought, it is not generally necessary to individualize 
them. In the majority of cases we make no attempt 
to realize the concept either in an actual or possible ob- 
ject of intuition. We, in fact, substitute general terms 
for general notions, and use them in our judgments 
and reasoning, very much as we do algebraic symbols. 
Thus, though I cannot individualize my general con- 
cept of triangle, except as equilateral, isosceles, or sca- 
lene, I can judge and reason about a triangle, without 
making any attempt to conceive it in its specific charac- 
ter. But the individualization of a concept, at least 



i 



CONCEPTION. • 141 

in a possible object of intuition, is the true test of its 
logical correctness. If its attributes cannot be thought 
together, the concept must be rejected as illegitimate. 

6. Logical and real concepts. — Logically, then, any 
concept not embracing contradictory attributes is legit- 
imate. Such a concept is a legitimate form of thought, 
whether true to nature or not. As there is nothing 
contradictory in the combination of attributes, we can 
as easily, and hence, in a logical sense, as legitimately, 
conceive the particles of matter repellent of each other 
as attracting each other. But metaphysically, or really, 
conceptions are true or false, according as they corre- 
spond or not with the facts of nature. Thus, a person 
never having seen water congealed, might conceive it 
as necessarily fluid, which, not embracing all the essen- 
tial facts in the case, is a false conception. Hence the 
truth of our conceptions depends upon the extent and 
accuracy of our knowledge of objects. 

7. What is conceivable is possible^ but 7iot necessarily 
the reverse. — Whatever is conceivable we regard as 
possible. As it is construable to thought, as there is no 
difficulty in our thinking it, we can see nothing insu- 
perable in the way of its being realized. What we 
can think, we are constrained to believe that Almighty 
Power might render actual. And even what we can- 
not think, we do not necessarily consider as beyond the 
reach of Almighty Power to realize ; so that inconceiv- 
ability is not regarded by us as equivalent to impossi- 
bility. 

8. Limit to the application of the term conception. — 
Conception being the contemplation of the internal 
character of a class of related objects, and thus, in a 
general sense, the construing to thought, or the viewing 



142 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

in connection with each other and as consistent with 
each other, of various attributes and relations, we may 
be said to conceive a judgment, a process of reasoning, 
a system composed of various co-ordinated or subordi- 
nated parts, a machine, or other structure embodying 
abstract ideas and relations. But conception should 
not be used in so wide a sense, as is often done by Dr. 
Reid, as to include understandings comprehending ^ sup- 
posing^ assuming^ etc. We may understand the state- 
ment that the whole is greater than its parts, but we 
cannot conceive the relation assumed in the judgment. 
We may suppose or assume that two straight lines^ en- 
close space, but we cannot conceive the relation implied 
in the sentence. 



SECTION II. 
FORMATION OF CONCEPTS. 



1. We first distinguish individual things. — In our 
first perceptions, especially by sight, different objects 
are regarded only as variations in, or different parts of, 
one whole. By degrees, these variations are distin- 
guished as different objects, and more or less of their 
qualities perceived, varying with the sense employed in 
their perception. And in time, by the use of our dif- 
ferent senses and powers, we acquire a knowledge of 
all the properties of an object which we are capable of 
acquiring. The knowledge thus acquired of an indi- 
vidual object, whether at once or by repeated efforts, is 
called an intuition. 

2. We then combine them in classes. — In the mean 
time, We have perceived a large number of objects, 



CONCEPTION. 143 

which, from a natural tendency of the human mind to 
disregard differences, are distributed into classes accord- 
ing to their substantial resemblances, the individuals 
of each class being recognized as virtually the same and 
being designated by the same name. Thus objects are 
rudely classified almost unconsciously. But reflection 
follows the unconscious process, and confirms or cor- 
rects its results, as the case may require. We thus 
come, at length, even in ordinary perception, almost 
wholly to disregard the individual features of classified 
objects, and in conceiving or thinking of the class by its 
type, to fix exclusively on certain attributes common to 
all the individuals, while all others are neglected as 
non-essential. 

3. And then combine classes into one. — Our con- 
cepts, in the course of observation and reflection, are 
continually becoming more and more accurate, and 
more and more extended, exhibiting a constant ten- 
dency to higher and higher generalizations. The pri- 
mary concepts which we form from limited observation 
are gradually enlarged with our growing experience, by 
admitting to the class other and still other kindred 
classes of objects, till the general class embraces vari- 
ous subordinate classes, each having its separate type, 
but all coinciding in certain interior common attributes. 
Thus the notion which we form from observation of 
the rose^ lily^ violet^ etc., are afterwards united in the 
more general concept of j^oz^er; while the notion of 
floiver^ tree^ fern^ etc., are embraced again under the 
still wider concept of plant. And thus our concepts 
embrace wider and still wider circles of objects, tend- 
ing ever towards the absorption of all things into one 
grand unity, the summum genus^ Substance or Being. 



144 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

4. Breadth and depth of concepts. — In this grada- 
tion of concepts, it is obvious that the higher or wider 
the concept, the greater the number of objects and the 
less the number of attributes which it embraces ; as 
the concept of plants while it embraces more objects 
than that of tree^ embraces them only by assuming 
fewer attributes to express the common nature of the 
class. In the language of logic, higher concepts have 
greater breadth^ or a wider extension or sphere^ while 
lower concepts have greater depths or more intention^ 
comprehension,, or matter (qualities). 

5. Hence conception grows out of perception. — It 
thus appears that conception grows out of perception. 
The percept lies at the root of the concept. Concepts 
are secondary notions generalized from perceptions. 
This is accomplished through comparison, as far as it 
is a conscious process. The common attributes of 
different objects are discovered by placing them side 
by side in our mental view, and considering them in 
comparison -with each other. But the withdrawing of 
the attention from all except the common attributes 
of the different objects, by which the generalization is 
effected, is called abstraction. However, even this is 
possible only through comparison. 



SECTION III. 
KINDS OF CONCEPTS. 



i 



It will tend further to elucidate the nature of con- 
ception, to enumerate and describe some of the princi- 
pal classes of concepts or notions. Our concepts are 
either distinct or confused^ adequate or inadequate^ sym- 



CONCEPTION. 145 

bolical or notative^ primary or secondary^ positive or neg- 
ative, irrespective or relative, abstract or concrete, neces- 
sary or contingent. Each of these classes of concepts 
may receive a few words of explanation. 

1. Distinct and Confused Concepts or Notions. — A 
notion is said to be distinct, when we can distinguish 
its marks or attributes and enumerate them. Thus, the 
notion of a bridge is a distinct notion, for we can read- 
ily discern and declare its attributes, as is done in the 
definition, " a bridge is a structure over any collection 
of water, resting on supports, and designed for the pas- 
sage of men or beasts." Not that such notions are 
necessarily distinct in all minds, but they are capable 
of becoming so. A confused notion, on the contrary, 
is one whose attributes cannot be distinguished, such 
as our notions of space, time, red, love, or of any other 
simple intuition or feeling. Such notions are clear 
enough, but being without distinguishing marks, they 
are said to be confused or indistinct. They are often 
called simple notions. 

2. Adequate and Inadequate Notions. — Notions are 
said to be adequate, when not only their attributes, 
but the attributes of these attributes, can be distin- 
guished and enumerated, — and the attributes of these 
again, as far as our purpose requires. Thus, if percep- 
tion be defined, "a mental energy by which we acquire 
a knowledge of an external world," we enumerate its 
attributes ; and the notion becomes adequate, when we 
explain, in turn, what is meant by " a mental energy," 
by " acquiring a knowledge," and by " an external 
world." When such explanation cannot be given, the 
notion is inadequate. 

3. Symbolical and Notativc Concepts. — Symbolical 

13 



146 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

concepts are notions so complex, and embracing so 
many attributes, that the full extent of their meaning 
is not usually realized in employing the terms by which 
they are designated, the words being really used as 
substitutes or symbols in place of the ideas. Such 
words as state^ virtue^ universe^ etc., are of this sort. 
These and many other general terms are constantly 
used without either speaker or hearer realizing any 
thing like the full conception which they designate. 
Indeed, all familiar concepts are practically, in a great 
measure, symbolical. After we have once formed a 
concept, we think but little of its elements, but take 
the general term by which it is designated as a substi- 
tute for the thought. But where the attributes of a 
concept are quite simple and obtrusive, so that they are 
readily realized, as in the concepts of book^ box, tree, 
etc., it is said to be notative. 

4. First and Second Notions, — First notions, as the 
term implies, are the simple, unmodified concepts which 
we form of things, or classes of things, as they stand 
in nature; such concepts as have thus far been de- 
scribed in this chapter. But when these primary con- 
cepts come to be thought of out of relation to the 
objects which they represent, and only in relation to 
each other, i.e., when they come to be handled purely 
as materials of thought, they are viewed by the mind 
under a new aspect. Under this new form they become 
second notions. Thus, the first notions of Thomas, 
man, animal, etc., can be thought of in relation to each 
other only as individual, species, genus, etc. Hence 
first notions are such as those of tree, plant, stone, horse, 
etc., while second notions are such as those of individ- 
ual, genus, species, premise, conclusion, syllogism, and 



n 



I 



CONCEPTION. 147 

other concepts of concepts, or " names of names," as 
Hobbes calls them. As second notions are the forms 
which first notions assume when they .are thought of 
in relation to each other, Logic is said to have to do 
wholly with second notions. 

5. Positive and Negative (or Privative) Notions. — A 
positive notion is any- notion which possesses positive 
attributes or marks. Such are all the classes of notions 
thus far spoken of, and indeed, all notions except nega- 
tive notions. Negative notions, then, are character- 
ized by a want of attributes or marks. They are but 
the implied counterpart or reflection of positive notions. 
Every positive notion suggests a counter negative no- 
tion, and these together make up an entire sphere ; as 
kindness and unkindness, good and not-good, animal and 
not-animal, material and immaterial. All such negative 
notions are merely conceived as destitute of the attri- 
butes of the positive notions to which they correspond. 
§uch notions, however, are not without their value. 
They supply a negative for every positive, and give us 
a glimpse of what is unknowable even, by shadowing 
it forth as the counterpart of what is known. Of this 
nature are all our conceptions of the infinite and ab- 
solute. 

6. Irrespective and Relative Notions. — Irrespective 
notions are such as do not imply or suggest any other 
notion, as, for instance, the notions of horse, tree^flower^ 
and indeed, the great body of our notions. Relative 
notions, on the contrary, are those which usually or al- 
ways occur to our minds in pairs, the one seeming nec- 
essarily to imply the other. Such are the notions ex- 
pressed by the words debtor and creditor, parent and 



148 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

cMld^ male and female^ young and old^ true and false^ 
etc. Positive and negative concepts are also relative 
notions. 

7. Abstract and Concrete Notions. — All concepts 
are abstractions, but certain concepts are technically 
known as abstract, in comparison with others which 
are called concrete. Abstract notions are qualities 
viewed under a substantive form, or apart from the 
subjects to w^hich they belong. These qualities may 
either be of a general nature, such as belong to various 
classes of things, as whiteness^ roughness^ justice^ etc ; 
or such as belong to only a single class of objects, as, 
manliness^ royalty, etc. But when these qualities are 
viewed merely as attributes of their several subjects, our 
notion of them is said to be concrete, as when we speak 
of the white snow, the just man, the manly boy, the 
royal guest, etc. 

8. Necessary and Contingent notions. — What are 
commonly called necessary notions are more properly, 
perhaps, either necessary intuitions, or necessary judg- 
ments. Our ideas of space, time, causality, etc., can 
be considered concepts^ only as they extend the quali- 
ties presented to us in their respective intuitions to all 
possible time, space, etc., and hence, in a certain sense, 
are generalizations. On the contrary, the various log- 
ical and mathematical axioms are rather judgments 
than concepts. Strictly, therefore, all concepts are con- 
tingent, except such as are necessary in that very lim- 
ited sense implied in the fact, that our perceptions 
having been such and such in regard to any class of 
objects, our conceptions are necessarily in accordance 
with our experience. 



CONCEPTION. 149 



SECTION IV. 
THEORIES OF CONCEPTION. 



The controversy about general notions is one famous 
in the history of philosophy, and has been marked by 
three distinct theories on the subject; denominated, 
respectively, realism^ nominalism^ conceptualism. 



I. REALISM. 



1. Wliat this theory holds to. — According to this 
theory, concepts have a real objective existence, inde- 
pendent of the mind conceiving them, and even of the 
objects in which alone they appear to us. They are 
neither mere modifications of the mind, nor combina- 
tions of qualities in objects, apprehended by the mind 
and abstracted from them. They are to be regarded, 
rather, as proper representative objects, meditating be- 
tween the mind and the phenomenal world. They are 
thus only a peculiar form of the representative ideasy 
which figure so largely in the history of philosophy. 

2. The Platonic view. — According to Plato, the 
phenomenal world (i.e., all external objects) addresses 
itself only to the sensitive soul (as he calls it), and gives 
rise merely to sensations, not perceptions. All that is 
really perceived is ideas, and hence objects are per- 
ceived only as they participate in these ideas. These 
ideas he regards as existing actually in the mind of 
God and as having determined him in creation, — they 
being the types or models after which all things were 
made ; but only potentially in the mind of man, as he is 
only conscious of them as elicited by experience ; i.e., 
by the recurrence to sense of various phenomenal ob- 
jects which are the embodiments of these ideas. Thus 

13* 



150 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

the ideal world was the only real world ; all the rest 
was only changing, fleeting, phenomenal. These views 
of Plato were adopted by his followers among the 
Schoolmen of the Middle Ages, and employed by 
them, especially, as a theory of conception, or an ac- 
count of general notions, — though conception and per- 
ception are all the same, on this theory. 

3. Criticism of the theory. — This theory of concep- 
tion (like the corresponding theory of perception) errs, 
in assuming the existence of actual, representative en- 
tities in thought, which are not mere modifications of 
the thinking mind itself, — i.e., real mental apprehen- 
sions reached through experience. It substitutes rep- 
resentative ideas for thoughts proper. Conceptions, 
thoughts, are indeed real, both in the mind of God and 
in the mind of man, though not distinct, real entities, — 
certainly not in the mind of man. God has stamped 
certain types upon things, and man reads them there. 

II. NOMINALISM. 

1. WTiat the theory is. — This theory does not deny 
that we apprehend certain common qualities in dif- 
ferent objects, and classify them accordingly. It only 
contends that these common qualities are none the 
more general, for being perceived in several objects, — 
that they always stand in the mind, as perceived in 
some particular object of the class, but accompanied by 
the consciousness that they belong equally to every in- 
dividual of the class. All the generality, therefore, 
which there is in such notions, consists in the idea of 
relation to various individual objects, which is in- 
volved in them. 



CONCEPTION. 151 

2. Further developed and illustrated, — The nomi- 
nalist, therefore, holds, that strictly, there are only gen- 
eral terms, notions being always singular. In other 
words, that in employing general terms, or words which 
designate classes of things, the object before the mind 
is always individual, only accompanied by the con- 
sciousness that this individual object is like various 
other individual things in certain qualities or respects. 
There can be, therefore, no such general notion, as was 
formerly contended for by some philosophers, which 
embraces the distinctive characteristics of every indi- 
vidual of a class, yet so generalized as to apply to no 
one in particular ; as, for instance, of a triangle, which 
is at the same time rectangular and oblique, equilateral 
and scalene, and yet neither the one nor the other. 
This is now generally admitted, and the only difference 
between nominalists and conceptualists seems to be, as 
to whether the mind in using general terms always and 
necessarily calls up individuals, or is concentrated, as 
far as it realizes any thing beyond the word, upon the 
bundle of qualities common to the class, abstracted 
from any and all particular objects. The latter is the 
view of the conceptualist, and as it seems to me, the 
true view. 

III. CONCEPTUALISM. 

1. What the theory is. — This is the theory of con- 
ception described in the previous sections of this chap- 
ter, and that now more commonly held by philosophers. 
According to this theory, general notions exist, indeed, 
but only as thoughts, or products of the mind. They 
are mere formal representations of classes of objects, 
constructed by the mind from its observation of their 



152 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

common marks. They are thus but mental modifica- 
tions, or thoughts of certain attributes common to 
classes of objects. 

2. The use of general terms according to this theory. 
— Doubtless language is of great use — nay, indispen- 
sable, even — in conception, as in other mental opera- 
tions. When we have formed a concept, we give it 
a name, which fixes and records it, and thus preserves 
it for future use. This name, ever afterwards, stands 
as the sign of the concept, and recalls it whenever it 
occurs. Some of these general terms are mere arbi- 
trary signs of the things signified, and some of them 
contain in their etymology some allusion to the quali- 
ties represented by them ; as, animal (something hav- 
ing life)^ vegetable (something that grows), happiness 
(something which we owe to hap or fortune) ; so also, m- 
ertia, gravitation, isomorphism, homceopathy, etc. Thus, 
as Aristotle remarks, general names are often only ab- 
breviated definitionsr 



SECTION V. 
IMPORTANCE OF CONCEPTION. 



1. Conception compared with perception, — Concep- 
tion, as we have seen, is apprehending, or grasping to- 
gether, the marks or characters which constitute the 
common nature of classes of related objects. By per- 
ception we become acquainted with the qualities of 
individual objects, by conception we form notions of 
classes of objects. In perception the qualities are all 
directly given in a single individual object, in concep- 
tion the common qualities qf many different yet related 



CONCEPTION. 153 

objects have to be abstracted by a reflex mental effort. 
Conception, therefore, requires a much higher mental 
energy, and hence is a much more difficult process. If, 
then, men often use their senses so poorly that their 
perceptions are inadequate and indistinct, how much 
more danger is there of their conceptions being so ? 

2. All our higher knoivledge depends vpon the ade- 
quacy of our conceptions. — At the same time, all our 
higher knowledge depends upon the adequacy and dis- 
tinctness of our conceptions. As accurate perceptions 
are necessary, in order that we may have the materials 
for forming accurate conceptions, so accurate concep- 
tions are necessary, in order to an adequate knowledge 
of all above individual things. All the knowledge ex- 
pressed by general terms, as indicating more than a 
single object, all that is reached by judgment or the 
longest process of reasoning, * depends upon the accu- 
racy and adequacy of our conceptions. If our concep- 
tions are inadequate, not only is our knowledge of 
classes of objects, and of all general and abstract ideas, 
defective, but our inferences and deductions from them 
are unreliable. And how large and important a portion 
of knowledge is thus affected, may be seen by consid- 
ering how few of the ideas which form the staple of 
our thoughts are expressed by proper names or singu- 
lar terms. 

3. Fruitful knowledge is not the knowledge of words^ 
but of things, — When knowledge becomes a mere 
knowledge of words, and philosophy only a series of 
logomachies, they must necessarily be devoid of fruit. 
It was so in Bacon's time, who, with his usual felicity, 

* Thinkinj^ is defined by Mansel (Prolegomena Logica, p. 22) as "the 
act of knowing or judging of things by means of concepts." 



154 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

pointed out the cause in a single word, by saying that 
science had become so unfruitful, because it had lost 
its root in nature. The leading Schoolmen, who 
brought on this state of things, were either nominalists 
or idealists, both of which views tend to carry off the 
mind from nature, and entangle it in barren subtleties. 
Knowledge becomes fruitful only as our words are 
merely the signs of distinctly formed concepts, filled 
with a living content, direct from nature. The mind 
is enriched only as it grasps the reality of things. To 
show the importance of conception, let us take a few 
illustrative cases from the sciences. 

4. Illustrations from astronomy, — Astronomy fur- 
nishes many forcible illustrations of the importance of 
conception in the study of nature. Nothing is more 
familiar to us than the phases of the moon, and yet 
how inadequate the conception, in most persons, of the 
actual relative positions of the sun, earth, and moon, 
from which those successive phases result ; and how 
impossible it would be for them to represent and ex- 
plain these relations to another, and deduce the phe- 
nomena from them ! One may even have solved all 
the mathematical questions pertaining to the subject, 
and obtained the formulae which express all the facts^ 
as thousands have done, and yet have no adequate no- 
tion of the thing itself — no mental picture of the ac- 
tual relations of the three bodies from which the phases 
arise. So one may be able to calculate an eclipse, 
without really conceiving the relation of the bodies 
from which it arises ; nay, may have mastered, perhaps, 
the formulse of the Mechanique Celeste, without hav- 
ing any thing more than the vaguest conception of the 
real mechanism of the heavens. The solution of such 



CONCEPTION. 155 

questions by the algebraic method does not necessitate 
the actual formation of the implied concepts, nor is a 
true and vivid conception of all the facts and relations 
involved in the case always reached, though they are 
much more likely to be, even by the geometrical method 
of solution. 

5. Illustrations from other sciences. — Other sciences 
furnish scarcely less forcible illustrations of the impor- 
tance of conception. What knowledge is conveyed to 
us by the term " stereographic projection,'^ or by the 
mere process of finding the formulae which apply to it, 
if we do not actually form a conception of the thing 
itself? How are we profited by the terminology of 
Chemistry, Geology, Natural History, Physiology, or 
Psychology, unless we actually form the conceptions 
indicated by the different terms ? Merely to learn the 
words and repeat them from memory is of no avail. 
They must be apprehended in their meaning in order 
to enrich the mind at all. And so in all cases. There 
is nothing in which men fail more than in forming dis- 
tinct and accurate conceptions, and no more defective 
education than that which encourages a mere knowl- 
edge of words, rules, and formulae, to the neglect of 
ideas. 



CHAPTER VIL 

JUDGMENT. 

SECTION I. 

NATURE OF JUDGMENT. 

1. What judgment is. — Judgment is the power of 
viewing one concept as being (or not being) equivalent 
to or a part of another concept. Without this power 
our concepts would remain isolated, each being viewed 
by itself, without any connection between them. It is 
by the judgment that their relations are perceived, and 
that they come to be regarded as equivalents or parts 
of each other. Thus, having a concept of man and of 
changeableness, I perceive that changeableness forms a 
part of my concept of man, and therefore say, " man is 
changeable,'^ or " changeable man." So we say, " man 
is a rational animal," " man is not immortal," " a tree 
is a plant," etc. 

2. Meaning' of the word ^'parV^ in the above definition. 
— In the above definition, the term part is used in its 
most general sense, as denoting any thing belonging to. 
According to Aristotle, every judgment declares either 
the genus J or the definition, or the property, or the acci- 
dent of its subject. In the first case, the idea expressed 
by the predicate contains the subject as a part, in the 
second, the two ideas are equivalent, and in the others, 
the predicate expresses 3. quality (property or accident) 
of the subject ; as, '' man is an animal," " man is a ra- 



JUDGMENT. 157 

tional animal," " man is a warm-blooded animal," " life 
is sweet." 

3. Possible judgments. — Whatever concepts are 
miited in a judgment must be regarded as holding one 
or the other of the above-named relations to each other. 
When, therefore, any two concepts which do not admit 
of such a relation are brought together in the form of a 
judgment, the judgment is inconceivable. We often 
have occasion to use such judgments, but only as sup- 
positions. Though inconceivable in themselves as 
positive judgments, they are possible forms of thought, 
and quite conceivable as assumptions. Thus, for the 
purposes of demonstration, we may suppose a square to 
be a triangle, the three angles of a triangle to be greater 
or less than two right-angles, two straight lines to en- 
close a space, etc. These and the like, are intelligible 
as suppositions, though not as positive judgments. 

4. Conceivable judgments. — A judgment is conceiv- 
able only when the relation asserted to exist between 
the two concepts is conceivable. It is not sufficient, as 
seen above, that the form of expression be intelligible, 
so that we comprehend the relation assumed ; to make 
a judgment conceivable, it must be capable of being 
construed to the mind, of being thought as possible, of 
being brought into a consistency of representation. 
No such consistency of representation is possible in 
such a judgment as " a square is a triangle ; " but that 
" man is mortal," " sugar is sweet," or that " space 
may exist either occupied or unoccupied by material 
objects," may be easily construed to the mind. 

5. True judgments. — A true judgment is one which 
is according to the facts of nature. It expresses what 
is known as true. It is not enough, in this case, that 

14 



158 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

the relation asserted between the two concepts should 
be conceivable, it must be real. " Men are infallible," 
is a judgment entirely conceivable in itself, though far 
from being true. But the propositions, " men are falli- 
ble," " two straight lines cannot enclose a space," are true 
judgments, being in accordance with what we know, 
either from experience or intuitively. In all forms of 
judgment both concepts are known, but in true judg- 
ments, the assumed relation of the concepts, also, is in 
accordance with what we know. 

6. Judgment implies comparison. — Judgment, of 
course, implies comparison. The relation which is as- 
serted or denied to exist between two concepts, can 
have been perceived only by comparing them together. 
When one asserts, " snow is white," he implies, that, 
in comparing his notion of snow and whiteness, he per- 
ceives that the quality belongs to that subject. But in 
that affirmation by the mind, in all its operations, of the 
existence of some object before it, either real or ideal, 
which Sir W. Hamilton calls an " assertory judgment," 
and Mr. Mansel, a " psychological judgment," there is no 
proper comparison ; it is only the assertion of an imme- 
diate state of consciousness. Thus, when I assert that 
there is a real object before my mind in perception, and 
an ideal object before it in imagination, I only assert 
what I am immediately conscious of, — there can be 
no comparison in such a case, except it be that of some- 
thing with nothing. 

7. Depth and breadth of judgments. — When the re- 
lation between the two concepts in a judgment is 
viewed as existing between the marks or attributes 
which they embrace, the judgment is regarded in its 
intension^ comprehensioUj or breadth ; bat when between 



JUDGMENT. 159 

the things embraced under them, it is regarded in its 
extension or breadth. Thus the judgment, " all men are 
mortal," means, according to its intension, " the attri- 
bute of mortality belongs to, or is one of the attributes 
of man ; " according to its extension, " man belongs to 
the class of mortal beings.'' 



SECTION II. 
KINDS OF JUDGMENTS. 



Judgments may be divided : according to the coin- 
cidence or non-coincidence of the concepts which they 
contain, into substitutive and attributive judgments ; ac- 
cording to the form of the language in which they are 
expressed, into categorical^ hypothetical^ and disjunctive 
judgments ; according to the agreement or repugnance 
of the ideas compared, into affirmative and negative 
judgments ; according to the matter which they re- 
late to, into certain and doubtful judgments ; and ac- 
cording as the predicate merely explains or adds some- 
thing new to the idea contained in the subject, into 
explicative {analytic) and ampliative [synthetic) judg- 
ments. 

1. Substitutive and Attributive Judgments, — This is 
a general division of all judgments. As we have seen 
in the preceding section, all judgments assert, either 
that two concepts are equivalent to each other, or that 
one is a part of, or belongs to, the other. In the first 
case, the judgment is substitutive, in the second it is 
attributive. Thus, in the judgment, " man is a rational 
animal," the two concepts being equivalent, the subject 
and predicate may change places (i.e., one may be 



160 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

substituted for the other) without affecting the truth or 
propriety of the judgment. It is just as true that " a 
rational animal is a man," as that " man is a rational 
animal." But in such judgments as "life is sweet," 
" the rose is a flower," the subject and predicate can- 
not with propriety be made to change places, since the 
one concept, in each case, is but a part, or an attribute^ 
of the other. 

2. Categorical Judgments, — In modern usage, cate- 
gorical judgments embrace all judgments direct in form, 
whether positive or negative. They thus embrace all 
judgments, except hypothetical and disjunctive judg- 
ments. This is the common classification of judgments 
from Aristotle down. But in Aristotle himself, as 
shown by Sir W. Hamilton, * categorical is not opposed 
to hypothetical^ but always means affirmative^ whether 
applied to propositions or syllogisms. 

3. Hypothetical Judgments. — These are apparently 
pairs of judgments, related to each other as cause and 
effect, condition and consequence; as, for example, "if 
it rains copiously, the rivers rise ; " " if you neglect to 
sow, you cannot expect to reap." But in all such cases, 
there is in reality only a single judgment, a single as- 
sertion, which is, that if one thing happens, then another 
will. Giving it, therefore, its true logical form, the 
hypothetical judgment becomes " the case (fact, notion) 
of its raining copiously is a case {fact, notion) of the 
rivers rising." 

4. Disjunctive Jndgments. — Here, too, there are ap- 
parently two judgments, but really- only one. Such 
judgments bring together, as alternatives, two concepts, 
both of which cannot be true, but one of which must 

^Philosophical Discussions, p. 151. 



JUDGMENT. 161 

be ; as, '• either the miracles of Christ were real, or he 
was a gross impostor." The real judgment here, re- 
duced to its logical form, is, " the possible cases in re- 
gard to the miracles of Christ are, that they were real, 
and that he was an impostor." 

5. Affirmative and Negative Judgments. — Judgments 
which express an agreement of two concepts, as wholes, 
or as whole and part, are called affirmative judgments, 
while those which express a want of such agreement 
are called negative judgments ; as, " life is short," " man 
is not immortal." But when the negative does not 
affect the copula, but the subject or predicate, the judg- 
ment is affirmative ; as, " not to submit would be mad- 
ness," "all human virtue is imperfect." A judgment 
like this last, with a negative or privative expression in 
the predicate, is sometimes called an indefinite judg- 
ment. 

6. Certain and Doubtfid Judgments. — Judgments 
pertaining to what is called necessary matter, as the 
relations of time, space, number, and degree, as devel- 
oped in the various mathematical sciences, are made 
with the utmost confidence and certainty ; such as, 
that "two and two make four," "two straight lines 
cannot enclose space." But judgments relating to con- 
tingent matter are made with less certainty, varying in 
different cases, and are received with more caution. 
The judgments, "truth is great and will prevail," are 
probable, though not certain. So of judgments based 
upon testimony ; as, " Cato killed himself at Utica," 
and in the other departments of probable truth. 

7. Explicative or Analytic Judgments. — Such judg- 
ments merely unfold or analyze the subject in the pred- 
icate, — the predicate merely draws out and repeats in 

14* 



162 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

another form the idea contained in the subject. Such 
are the judgments expressed in the common logical and 
mathematical axioms and definitions ; as " a whole is 
equal to the sum of its parts," " a circle is a curved 
line, every point in which is equally distant from a 
a point included by it, called the centre." Such, too, 
are judgments in contingent matter, when the predicate 
is thought as necessarily involved in the subject ; as 
" all bodies are extended." Analytical judgments are 
not strictly identical, although the concepts in the sub- 
ject and predicate are equivalent to each other. The 
concepts are the same in substance, to be sure, but 
being different in form, the one is drawn from the other 
only by an act of mental analysis. 

8. Ampliative or Synthetic Judgments, — These are 
judgments in which something is added in the predi- 
cate to the idea contained in the subject. They ex- 
press an enlargement of our knowledge, a putting to- 
gether of two notions not actually involved in each 
other and thought as necessarily belonging to each 
other. Such judgments relate chiefly to contingent 
matter and probable truth ; they indicate the enlarge- 
ment of our knowledge through experience. Thus, 
when we say, " iron is ductile," we indicate by the pred- 
icate a quality not thought as necessarily involved in 
the very notion of iron, but one which has been dis- 
covered to belong to it by experience. 

9. Judgments not to be classified as Propositions. — 
The classification of judgments as propositions^ and 
their significance as such, belong to logic. There are 
commonly reckoned six distinct forms of propositions, 
to which Sir W. Hamilton, carrying out a thorough 
quantification of the predicate, in negative as well as 



JUDGMENT. 163 

affirmative judgments, has added two more, making 
eight in all. We may embrace, in both affirmative 
and negative judgments, the whole of the subject and 
predicate, a part of the subject and predicate, the whole 
of the subject and a part of the predicate, a part of the 
subject and the whole of the predicate. 



CHAPTER VIIL 

REASONINa. 

SECTION I. 

NATURE OP REASONING. 

1. What reasoniiig is. — Reasoning, when drawn 
out in full, consists of a series of judgments, in which 
every third judgment is deduced from the two preced- 
ing. The smallest movement in reasoning consists in 
deducing a third judgment from two others. This con- 
stitutes a single step, and is called, in logical language, 
a syllogism. As the mind advances from individuals to 
classes in conception, and from classes to combina- 
tions of classes in judgment, so it advances from judg- 
ments to combinations of judgments in reasoning. In 
reasoning, the object always is, from judgments already 
formed to reach other judgments which are legiti- 
mately deducible from them. This is done by the in- 
troduction of intermediate judgments. Thus, from the 
given judgment " all animals are mortal," I conclude 
at once that " man is mortal," as soon as I learn that 
" man is an animal." But from the judgment, " a tri- 
angle is a figure with three sides and three angles," we 
reach the conclusion that " the three angles of a tri- 
angle are equal to two right angles " only through sev- 
eral intermediate deductions. 

2. Argument, syllogism. — A reasoning expressed in 
words is called an argumentation or argument; though 



REASONING. 165 

properly, argument is only the discovery and applica- 
tion of the means of proof, of middle terms. But as al- 
ready stated, a reasoning, or rather, a single step or 
process of reasoning, drawn out in full, so as to express 
the complete form and exact order of thought in de- 
ducing a conclusion legitimately, is called a syllogism. 
Thus while one would say, in common argumentative 
discourse, " this liquid is poisonous, for it contains arse- 
nic," if he w^ere required to show more clearly the 
order of the thought, and the legitimacy of the conclu- 
sion, he would draw it out in full syllogistic form: — 

Every thing which contains arsenic is poisonous. 
This liquid contains arsenic, 
Therefore this liquid is poisonous. 

3. Designations of the different judgments in a syllo- 
gism, — In a syllogism^, the judgment which we wish 
to establish is called the question or problem^ at the 
outset, and the conclusion^ after it has been established ; 
while the judgments from which it is deduced are called 
premises^ — the general judgment with which we start, 
the major premise^ and the mediating judgment, the 
minor premise. Thus, in the preceding syllogism, the 
question at the outset is, " is this liquid poisonous ? " 
and the conclusion deduced from the other two judg- 
ments as premises is, that " it is poisonous." 

4. Reasoning is generally abridged in common dis- 
course, — In the language of common discourse, the 
process of reasoning is generally abridged, by omitting 
one of the premises, or even the conclusion ; and often 
the order of the premises and the conclusion is inverted. 
The speaker or writer comprehending the reasoning dis- 



166 



INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



tinctly himself does not feel the necessity of drawing it 
out fully, and in exact form, in expressing it to others. 
But such an argument being defective in form may be 
disputed by the caviller, or illegitimate reasoning may be 
passed off as legitimate under such forms. But a syl- 
logism, drawing out the reasoning in full, cannot be 
disputed, and will always exhibit any latent fallacy 
which may lurk in the reasoning. 

5. The syllogism a test of reasoning, — The syllo- 
gism, therefore, is only common reasoning drawn out 
in full, and in the best order to exhibit the legitimacy 
of the conclusion. It is common reasoning, though not 
in the precise form, nor in the exact language of com- 
mon discourse. It is a universal test of reasoning, and 
a sure protection against all fallacies. Thus, should it 
be said, "trade is depressed, therefore the country must 
be misgoverned," this might be passed off in a political 
harangue as very good reasoning ; but let it be drawn 
out into a syllogism and the fallacy is apparent at once. 
Thus :— 

Trade is depressed, 

Therefore the country is misgoverned, 

For every country is misgoverned where trade is depressed. ^ 

Putting in, thus, the general judgment implied but 
not expressed in the first form, the inconclusiveness of 
the reasoning immediately becomes obvious. 

6. Ground of the conclusion in a syllogism. — The 
object of all reasoning is to establish as true certain 



^ This form of the syllogism is called analytic, since the premises fol- 
low the conclusion as its reasons. The synthetic form, which places the 
premises first, is more common, but no more legitimate, or convincing. 



REASONING. 1G7 

conjectural judgments which occur to us in the experi- 
ence of life. And as all judgments consist of two con- 
cepts, which are legitimately united in thought only as 
they are seen to agree as wholes or as whole and part, 
the object of the syllogism is to exhibit conspicuously 
their agreement, through the introduction of a third no- 
tion^ which agrees with both of the notions of the judg- 
ment to be established, either in whole or in part, and 
hence warrants the conclusion, since two concepts which 
agi'ee with a third must agree with each other. Thus, 
should we conjecture of a certain disease that "it is fa- 
tal " in its character, if on further investigation we dis- 
cover it to be coiisumption^ we have hit upon a notion 
w^hich agrees with both " disease" and "fatal" (i.e., com- 
bines in itself both these ideas), and hence may say 
(introducing this as a rriiddle term), "this disease 
(which is consumption) is fatal ; " or drawing out all 
that is implied in this statement in the form of a syllo- 
gism: — 

All consumptions are fatal. 
This disease is consumption, 
Therefore it is fatal. 

7. All reasoning may be resolved into syllogisms. — 
All reasoning is of this nature. If sound, it may al- 
ways be drawn out into syllogisms ; the longest train 
of reasoning, when fully and formally expressed, is only 
a series of syllogisms. It is the same in probable and 
in demonstrative reasoning. Logic takes no account 
of the matter to which the reasoning relates ; its forms 
arc the same whether applied to necessary or contin- 
gent matter. Indeed, it does not even vouch for the 
objective truth of either its premises or conclusion, but 



168 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



1 



only for the sequence of the one from the other. Thus, 
the following syllogism is a legitimate form of thought, 
though obviously false in fact: — 

All men are perfect. 
John is a man, 
Therefore he is perfect. 

8. The discovery of the media of proof, — Reasoning 
being such as here described, it will readily be seen 
that the chief difficulty in the process must lie in the 
discovery of middle terms, or what is called in common 
language, the media of proof As these media are al- 
ways notions pertaining to the general subject of in- 
quiry, and lying between the premises and the conclu- 
sion, they are generally best reached by an attentive 
study of the subject in itself and in its connections. In 
mathematical reasoning, where the conclusion is de- 
veloped directly out of the premises, we have little 
more to do, in order to discover the media proof, than 
carefully and patiently to consider what is given, in all 
its elements and contents. But in inductive reasoning, 
and probable reasoning generally, where truth as real- 
ized in nature and in life is to be established, the media 
of proof are to be sought from a wider field ; though 
even here they are always related to both premises and 
conclusion, else, indeed, they could not serve as media 
of proof at all. 

9. Discovery of the media of proof in inductive rea- 
soning. — In inductive reasoning, the guide to the con- 
necting conception is analogy or likeness, and the suc- 
cess of the inductive reasoner depends partly upon the 
closeness with which he scrutinizes every thing pertain- 
ing to the subject which he is investigating, and partly 



i 



REASONING. 169 

upon the readiness with which he seizes upon analogies 
among the objects which pass under his scrutiny. It 
was thus that Newton saw the law of gravitation in a 
falling apple, Oken the vertebral column in the skull of 
a deer, and Goethe the flower of a plant in its leaf. 
Newton, as he has informed us, owed his discoveries 
chiefly to the patience with which he studied his sub- 
jects, while the other discoverers here named, seem to 
have owed their success more to a lively imagination, 
which enabled them to see analogies that escaped 
duller though more patient students. 

10. The object of reasoning. — From what has been 
said, it will be seen that the object of reasoning is, to 
extend our knowledge from what we know to what we 
do not know — to enable us to form wider and wider 
judgments with regard to things. The human mind 
tends irresistibly to a unity of Imowledge. It seeks so 
to arrange, and classify, and subordinate its knowledge, 
that in its highest synthesis, it may all stand under a 
single relation, and be embraced in a single affirmation. 
In this generalizing process, reasoning follows upon 
conception and judgment, and completes the work 
which they begin. 



SECTION II. 
KINDS OF REASONING. 



1. All kinds of reasoning are the same in form. — 
As already stated, reasoning in all cases is the same in 
form, being always capable of reduction to the form 
of a syllogism. But there are certain recognized dis- 
tinctions in the process, depending either upon the 
15 



170 



INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



order of the thoughts or the matter to which they per- 
tain, which deserve a passing notice. 

2. Inductive and Dedtcctive Reasoning. — This is a 
general distinction of reasoning into two counter 
wholes, depending upon the reversed order of the 
thpughts in the two cases. In inductive reasoning, we 
proceed from the particular to the general, from the 
parts to the whole ; while in deductive reasoning, we 
proceed from the general to the particular, from the 
whole to its parts, 

3. Principle of the two processes as stated by Ham- 
ilton. — Of the two processes. Sir W. Hamilton * re- 
marks, " The former is governed by the rule : What 
belongs {or does not belong) to all the constituent partSj 
belongs (or does not belong) to the constituted whole. 
The latter by the rule: What belongs (or does not 
belong) to the containing whole, belongs {or does not 
belong) to each and all of the contained parts.^^ 

4. Induction usually precedes deduction. — As gen- 
eral notions, with a few exceptions, are formed from 
experience, induction must usually precede deduction. 
In the investigation of nature both are necessary, and 
they usually alternate with each other, — induction es- 
tablishing a general truth, and deduction, again, in- 
ferring some particular from it, and thus testing it. 
Thus, induction having rendered it probable that the 
diamond and charcoal were the same general sub- 
stance, deduction inferred, that if so, then the diamond 
would burn, which was found to be the fact, and hence 
their identity was established beyond all doubt or cavil. 

5. Imperfect inductions. — Induction is often used 
loosely for observation, or the investigation of facts 

* Philosophical I)iscussions, p. 159. 



REASONING. 171 

preparatory to induction, and generally, among physi- 
cal inquirers, for those imperfect inferences which pro- 
ceed from some to all. In such cases, the inference is 
not based upon any necessity of thought, but upon the 
material probabilities of the case ; and though all-im- 
portant as a guide in the investigations of nature, is 
logically defective. Hence most of our general princi- 
ples, established by the induction of experience, are 
but probable truths. "We say " all men are mortal," and 
have no shadow of doubt of the fact, though it is far 
from being a complete induction. Men are mortal as 
far as our experience goes, and, from the uniformity of 
the laws of nature, we are confident that they will 
always prove to be so. But from the nature of the 
case, the mortality of man can never be universally 
established till the end of time. 

6. A-priori and A-posteriori Reasoning. — This fa- 
mous distinction of reasoning, at least according to 
present usage, depends chiefly upon the different char- 
acter of the premises from which the reasoning pro- 
ceeds. The reasoning in both cases is deductive ; but 
in the one case the premises are derived from experi- 
ence, in the other they are not. Of the use of the two 
terms, as designating elements of knowledge from 
which inferences may be made. Sir W. Hamilton * re- 
marks, " The term a priori^ by the influence of Kant and 
his school, is now very generally employed to charac- 
terize those elements of knowledge which are not ob- 
tained a posteriori — are not evolved out of experience 
as factitious generalizations ; but which, as native to, 
are potentially in the mind antecedent to the act of ex- 
perience, on occasion of which (as constituting its 

* See Wight's Hamilton, p. 66. 



172 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

subjective conditions) they are first elicited into con- 
sciousness." 

7. Distinction between the two kinds of reasoning 
according to Hamilton. — As applied to reasoning, the 
same author * says of the terms : " Previously to Kant, 
the terms a priori and a posteriori were, in a sense 
which descended from Aristotle, properly and usually 
employed, — the former to denote a reasoning from cause 
to effect, the latter, a reasoning from effect to cause. 
The term a priori came, however, in modern times, to 
be extended to any abstract reasoning from a given no- 
tion to the conditions which such a notion involved ; 
hence, for example, the title a priori bestowed on the 
ontological and cosmological arguments for the exist- 
ence of the Deity. The latter of these, in fact, starts 
from experience — from the observed contingency of 
the world, in order to construct the supposed notion on 
which it founds. Clarke's cosmological demonstration, 
called a priori^ is therefore, so far, properly an argument 
a posterioriJ^ 

8. Probable and Demonstrative Reasoning. — This 
is a distinction of reasoning depending upon the effect 
which it produces upon the mind in different cases. f | 
The one kind of reasoning carries with it evidence ^ 
which is irresistible, the other, only such as renders the 
conclusion probable. Yet, the process of reasoning is 
precisely the same in the two cases. The whole differ- 
ence lies in the matter to which the reasoning, in the 
two cases, is applied. Reasoning on necessary matter 

is demonstrative or apodictic, on contingent matter, 
only probable. 

9. Necessary and contingent matter. — Necessary 

^ See Wight's Hamilton, p. 66. 



, REASONING. 173 

matter includes all objects of thought on which we 
always and necessarily^ in any given case, think the 
same; and contingent matter, all other objects of 
thought. Hence, space, time, number, and degree — 
i.e., in brief, quantity — in their various relations, con- 
stitute the only absolutely necessary matter. All 
other matter is more or less contingent. Our knowl- 
edge of facts may be definite and certain, and various 
first principles of knowledge, as well as modes of con- 
ception, may be necessarily received as such by all men, 
but nothing except quantity presents an object of 
thought on which, in its various parts and relations, all 
men not only do, but must^ think alike, if they think at 
all. 

10. Mathematical reasoning. — In mathematical rea- 
soning, — which alone, in the strict sense of the word, 
is demonstrative reasoning, — both the question and 
every step in the solution are not only perfectly defi- 
nite, but incapable of being apprehended differently, — 
if really apprehended, they must be apprehended alike 
by all and at all times. Thus, the definition of a 
circle, of a square, a triangle, etc., is one and the 
same to all, and any relation between their parts 
must always be apprehended alike by all. Space 
is apprehended by all as admitting of perfect figures 
of all sorts, and of fixed relations between their parts, 
whether any such figures are ever actually constructed 
or not. There is the like ideal exactness and perfec- 
tion in our conceptions pertaining to the other forms 
of quantity. 

11. Hovj the case stands in probable reasoning. — 
But in probable reasoning the case is different. Here 
the object to be reasoned about is not fixed and deter- 

15* 



174 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

mined by our conceptions, but is variable and contin- 
gent, conforming rather to the laws of nature and the 
realities of things. Suppose we wish to prove the ex- 
istence of the soul after death, the obligations of moral- 
ity, or any of the ten thousand questions pertaining to 
life and reality, we find no definite notion to start with, 
as in mathematics, which really contains the conclusion 
in itself, and which can be developed to the end through 
a series of necessary judgments ; but are obliged to 
start from this or that admitted fact or truth (and these, 
perhaps, not universally admitted), and proceed by 
merely probable inferences drawn from various, diverse, 
and often uncertain, relations, till we reach the conclu- 
sion. Such reasons may be sufficient to incline the 
mind to a particular conclusion, as against those 
which tend to any other conclusion ; but they are never 
quite sufficient to necessitate the conclusion, and 
render any other impossible. Still, if sufficient to con- 
trol the reason, they are sufficient to control the con- 
duct [mores) also ; and hence it is that probable reason- 
ing is sometimes called moral reasoning. 

12. Demonstrative reasoning not the most important 
because the most convincing. — But we are not to infer 
that demonstrative reasoning is the most important, be- 
cause it is the most convincing. A conclusion which 
is probably certain ought to control our conduct as 
readily as one which is demonstrably certain. That 
the proof preponderates on one side is sufficient to de- 
termine the reason, and should be to determine the 
conduct. If it does not, it is evidence of something 
wrong in our character ; and thus the fact that every 
question cannot be made demonstrably evident, be- 
comes an important test and trial of character. Be- 



REASONING. 175 

sides, as life has to do chiefly with things contingent, 
probable reasoning is much more used by us, and 
hence is much the most important to us. As remarked 
by Bishop Butler,* " to us [beings of limited capacities, 
as we are] probability is the very guide of life/' 

13. Abstract Reasoning, — This is reasoning from 
a general notion to its conditions or consequences. 
In terms it embraces mathematical reasoning, and in- 
deed, all reasoning where there is no appeal to experi- 
ence. But it is chiefly applied to that' species of 
probable reasoning, which deduces conditions or conse- 
quences from general notions ; as, for instance, the 
existence of God, from our conception of space ; or 
future rewards and punishments, from the fitness and 
unfitness of actions. 



SECTION III. 
FIRST PRINCIPLES OF REASONING. 

1. The tvJiole structure of knowledge depends on rea- 
soning. — As we have seen, it is by reasoning that our 
thoughts are combined and the whole structure of our 
knowledge reared. Nay, even the very foundations of 
knowledge depend upon reasoning. All thoughts are 
compared with each other by the reason, and are either 
accepted or rejected according as they are found to be 
consistent or inconsistent with other things. All knowl- 
edge being thus at the mercy of reason, it becomes im- 
portant to know within what limits its authority is le- 
gitimate, and what are the bounds to its action fixed in 
the nature of things. Even the reason must be reason- 

=^ Introduction to the Analogy. 



176^ INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

able. In the nature of the case it cannot give reasons 
for every thing. Being limited in its nature, it must 
not attempt to pass certain bounds. As shown in an 
earlier chapter, it must accept as final certain admitted 
judgments of fact, certain necessary conceptions, and 
certain laws of thought. 

2. Primary judgments of fact — Primary judgments 
of fact relate to things contingent, and are such as 
these : thought implies the existence of a thinking being 
to whom the thought belongs ; quality implies a substan- 
tive existence in which it inheres ; whatever is perceived 
by the several senses exists^ and substantially as per- 
ceived; whatever is recalled by the memory did exist as 
remembered ; and in general, consciousness makes a true 
and reliable report of our experience. And not only so, 
but, that in the natural and unperverted state of things, 
men .not only experience the truth, but speak the truth, 
and hence, that facts may be established by evidence. 

3. All probable reasoning is impossible unless these 
facts be accepted as final. — Without the admission 
of these, and perhaps other kindred judgments of fact, 
as primary and indisputable, all moral, or probable 
reasoning is impossible. All reasoning of this sort 
rests ultimately upon experience, and hence requires 
that the primary elements of experience be received as 
indisputable facts. If they be not thus received, there is 
no end of controversy, nothing in life can be settled, and 
the whole fabric of practical and empirical knowledge 
at once falls to the ground. It was thus that Hume 
subverted the fabric of knowledge in his time, and it 
was only by building upon these primary truths of fact, 
in a more sure and cautious manner, that it was again 
restored by Reid and his followers. 



J 



REASONING. 177 

4. Necessary first truths. — Much of reasoning, also, 
rests upon certain necessary truths or judgments. 
Such judgments are: every effect must have a cause; 
all objects exist in space and time ; space admits of va- 
rioiis definite and perfect relations both among ob- 
jects and the. different parts and positions of the same, as 
time does among events and the different periods of the 
same existence. We think every effect as necessarily 
having a cause, and can neither annihilate space and 
time in thought, nor conceive them otherwise than as 
media which admit of all possible forms, poportions, 
motions, successions, and relations of quantity. 

5. Consequences of denying these truths. — Our con- 
ceptions of space, time, and number, lie at the founda- 
tion of mathematical reasoning. If denied, therefore, 
the mathematical sciences are undermined. But they 
cannot be denied ; they are necessary truths, forcing 
themselves upon us with a power which defies disbe- 
lief. Hence, the mathematical sciences, as being at 
least formally true beyond all possibility of doubt, have 
never been seriously assailed by scepticism. This is 
not true, however, of the doctrine of causation. Our 
idea of causation being regarded by Locke as wholly 
empirical, it fell, with other empirical knowledge, before 
the scepticism of Hume, and with it the proof of a First 
Cause, until restored on a surer foundation by subse- 
quent philosophers. 

6. Axioms and laws of thought. — Reasoning, also, 
rests upon certain axioms and laws of thought. Some 
of these axioms are employed exclusively in mathemat- 
ical reasoning ; as, " a straight line is the shortest dis- 
tance between two points," " two straight lines cannot 
enclose a space," etc. Others may be employed, also, 



178 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

in probable reasoning ; such as, " the whole is greater 
than its part," " things that are equal to the same thing 
are equal to each other," and the like. And besides 
these axioms, there are three well-known laws of 
thought which are constantly appealed to in reasoning 
as of ultimate authority. These laws are denominated 
the Principle of Identity, the Principle of Contradic- 
tion, and the Principle of Excluded Middle. 

7. The Principle of Identity. — This law teaches, 
that there is something in every object which consti- 
tutes it such, and that it is always conceived as the 
same ; i.e., itself, and not another object. Hence it is 
always to be treated as the same, without doubt or 
cavil. We are not at liberty to question its sameness 
every time it recurs, but are required to receive it in the 
character in which it presents itself. And not only so, 
it is this principle which lies at the foundation of all 
legitimate judgments ; since, as we have seen, concepts 
are united in judgments only as they are regarded as 
agreeing with each other (i.e., as being the same) either 
in whole or in part. But more particularly, the princi- 
ple applies to all analytical judgments. In such judg- 
ments the predicate is developed wholly out of the 
subject, which is eflected only by our being able to 
cogitate it as the same, though under a different form. 

8. Principle of Contradiction, — This principle has | j 
been variously stated; as, that "the same attribute 
cannot be at the same time affirmed and denied of the 
same subject," or, that " the same subject cannot have 
contradictory attributes," or, that " the attribute cannot 
be contradictory of the subject." But the meaning in 
all cases is, that regarding an object as possessing any 
given attribute or character, we cannot at the same 



"reasoning. 179 

time conceive it as having an attribute or character 
which contradicts or denies the former. Thus, we 
cannot at the same time think of any thing, that it both 
is and is not, that it is white and not white^ extended 
and not extended^ etc. In like manner, having estab- 
lished any given judgment or proposition, we always 
unhesitatingly reject its contradictory. 

9. Principle of Excluded Middle. — This principle 
teaches that there is no middle condition between being 
and not being — that an object either is or is not, that 
a proposition or its contradictory must always be true, 
for there is no middle course. As we decide, on the 
preceding principle, tl^at no object can both be and not 
be, and no judgment be both true and false, we decide 
on this principle, that every object must either be or 
not be, and every judgment either be true or false. We 
decide that such must be the case even when we com- 
prehend neither of the alternative propositions. Thus 
we say of time, that it must have either an absolute 
beginning, or an infinite non-beginning. 

10. How these first principles are to be regarded. — 
These and the like primary truths and principles form 
the starting-points, and warrant the procedure, in all 
reasoning. They are to be regarded as original con- 
victions, imposed upon us by our mental constitution, 
and indicating the limitations of thought. As the hu- 
man mind is limited, thought also is necessarily lim- 
ited. * 

^ For a fuller exhibition of the nature and trustworthiness of the pri- 
mary facts and truths of consciousness, see chapter ii. 



180 IiNTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

SECTION IV. 
IMPROVEMENT OP THE REASONING POWERS. 

1. They are improved by use. — The reasoning pow- 
ers, of course, are improved by reasoning, as the other 
powers are improved by their appropriate exercise. Ac- 
tion is the grand condition of improvement for all our 
powers. As we can improve our senses only by a care- 
ful and persevering use of them in the perception of 
external objects, and our memory only by tasking it in 
the association and recollection of events ; so we can 
improve our reasoning powers only by their frequent 
and earnest employment in reasoning, or what in some 
way pertains to it. 

2. We should arrange our knowledge in logical order. 
— In order then, to improve our reasoning powers, it is 
necessary, in the first place, that we should be in the 
habit of arranging and frequently retracing our knowl- 
edge in its logical order. By the " logical order " of 
things I mean, the order of their dependence in thought, 
as part and whole, means and end, premise and con- 
clusion, reason and consequent, etc. It is not enough 
that we arbitrarily connect our thoughts by the thread 
of association, and recall them in that order — this is 
merely an exercise of memory, not of the reasoning 
powers. We reason, only as we proceed from thought 
to thought as logically dependent upon each other, and 
compelling our assent at every step. Reasoning is 
proving, and hence we reason when we seek to estab- 
lish the truth on any subject. The investigation of 
truth, therefore, is the great field for the improvement 
of the reasoning powers, 

3. Mathematical reasoning as a source of improve- 



REASONING. 181 

ment. — Mathematical reasoning, as we have seen, is 
virtually coincident with demonstrative reagoning. Of 
the effect of this kind of reasoning in improving the 
reasoning powers, different and even quite opposite 
opinions are held. Sir W. Hamilton, in an article 
truly marvellous for its compass and ability, comes to 
the conclusion, that mathematical studies exercise the 
reasoning powers but feebly, being chiefly " conducive 
to the one sole intellectual virtue of continuous atten- 
tion.''^ * Others, again, consider mathematics as abso- 
lutely the most efficient means of cultivating the rea- 
soning powers. 

4. What the truth in the case seems to be. — These 
are the extreme views, and the truth, undoubtedly, as 
usually happens in such cases, lies between them. It 
is true that the object-matter of mathematics — quan- 
tity — is simple and uniform, and the various concep- 
tions pertaining to its different parts and relations, clear 
and even necessary, while conclusions, however remote, 
are always implicitly contained in the premises, and 
are simply evolved out of them. Hence the course of 
deduction in mathematics seems to be of the simplest 
kind. The path being so plain, direct, and even 
hedged in on both sides, it scarcely seems possible for 
one to wander from it. Still, in mathematical, as in 
other reasoning, the object is, not simply to make a de- 
duction, but the right deduction — a deduction not 
only true, but important; to come to a conclusion, not 
only correctly drawn from the premises, but establishing 
a particular point, and admitting of particular applica- 
tions. Though the conclusion is always involved in 



^ Discussions on Philosophy, etc., p. 310. 

16 



182 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY, 

the premises, it takes a good deal of reflection to per- 
ceive it, and something more than mere patience to 
trace it through a long line of deduction, which at the 
same time is but one line among many that might be 
followed. Though mathematical reasoning^ has no 
very wide application in the ordinary affairs of life, 
there can be no doubt that it is an important instru- 
ment for sharpening and strengthening the reasoning 
powers. 

5. Probable reasoning as a means of improvement — 
Probable reasoning embraces all reasoning which is not 
demonstrative in its character, and hence, in general, 
all except mathematical reasoning. It occupies a wide 
sphere, therefore, and from the diverse, variable, contin- 
gent, and uncertain elements with which it has to do, 
must require the most careful and intense exercise of 
our powers in order to conduct it safely. Its processes 
may be shorter than in mathematical reasoning, but 
the variableness and contingency of its matter make it 
more difficult to manage. The effect of this kind of 
reasoning in improving the reasqning powers will be 
seen by considering its procedure in those departments 
of study and mental exertion where it has the greatest 
scope. 

6. Influence of metaphysical and ethical studies in im- 
proving the reasoning powers. — There is a large de- 
mand for the use of probable reasoning in metaphysical 
and ethical studies. Here the object is to establish the 
truth with regard to knowledge and duty, — to solve 
the questions. What can we know ? and, Wliat should 
we do ? These and the collateral questions are among 
the most abstruse and subtle which the human mind 
has to deal with, and can be settled only by weighing 



REASONING. 183 

a thousand probabilities — often in themselves appar- 
ently as light as air — and observing the slightest pre- 
ponderance of one over the other. The arguments by 
which the truth on these subjects is to be established, 
are so abstruse and subtle, as to task the human pow- 
ers to the utmost to discover and appreciate them. I 
know of no better gymnastic for the reasoning powers, 
than Butler's discussions on Morals, and Hamilton's 
on Philosophy. 

7. Effect of forensic discussions in improving the rea- 
soning powers, — But the field where probable reason- 
ing has its widest scope, is in the proof of facts. The 
proof of facts by "circumstantial evidence," as it is 
called, is but the proof of facts by probable arguments, 
and has always been considered as presenting the fin- 
est field for the exercise and display of the strength and 
ingenuity of the reasoning powers. When the fact to 
be established deeply affects human interests, and 
arouses the popular mind by its public importance, as 
the fact of a murder, or some great public outrage or 
fraud, it has always been a favorite theme for the ora- 
tors, and, in different ages, themes of this sort have 
called forth such prodigies of argumentative eloquence, 
as the speeches of Cicero against Verres, of Burke in 
the impeachment of Warren Hastings, and of Webster 
in the trial of the Knapps. The construction of such 
arguments is among the highest efforts of the human 
reason, and even the careful reading and analysis of 
these great efforts of the master minds of our race are 
among the most profitable studies in which we can en- 
gage. 

8. Logic as a means of improving the reasoning pow- 
ers. — I might name, as another means of improving 



184 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

our reasoning powers, the study of logic. Not that 
logic teaches the art of reasoning ; logic is rather a 
critique of reasoning, than a system of rules for con- 
ducting it in practice. In the nature of the case, there 
can be no art of reasoning, except what is the result of 
the practice of reasoning. Reasoning proceeds by in- 
ternal perceptions, not by external rules. . We improve 
our reasoning powers, therefore, only as we improve 
our perception of the logical relations of ideas, — only 
as we sharpen our mental acumen. And it is in this 
way that the study of logic improves the reasoning 
powers. It treats of the logical relations of thought, 
and hence trains the mind to their perception. It ana- 
lyzes the canons of thought, and thus lets us into its 
mechanism and familiarizes us with its processes. The 
study of logic, therefore, tends to improve the reason- 
ing powers, but only as other studies and mental exer- 
cises do, by promoting the perceptions and habits which 
are essential to reasoning. 

9. Conclusion. — It is by these, and the like means, 
that our reasoning powers — the last and noblest in that 
gradation of powers which it has been the object of 
this treatise to describe — are trained to that wonderous 
clearness of perception and facility of movement, which 
conduct us, step by step, with unerring precision, to the 
most remote and hidden truths. Reasoning is a search 
for causes, or first principles. It proceeds from things 
as they present themselves to us to things as they are, 
from thoughts to the conditions which they involve, 
from facts to principles, from effect^ to causes, and 
from nature to God. It is ever moving towards unity, 
as if instinctively tending towards that highest and 
sublimest affirmation of the Christian faith — " God all 



APPENDIX. 



ABSTRACT OF THE HISTORY OF SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY. 

1. Philosophy has been defined to be, " the research 
of causes." It is the fruit of the inquisitive or specu- 
lative spirit of man. By the constitution of the human 
mind, all experience awakens reflection. We are not 
merely conscious of the successive facts and changes 
which transpire within and about us, as they pass, but 
are arrested by them, and led to reflect upon them. 
They awaken not only consciousness, but curiosity. 
The mind dwells upon them, compares them, contem- 
plates, speculates them ; and in so doing, draws in- 
ferences from them, generalizes them, and, by degrees, 
ascertains their true relations and significance. Phi- 
losophy, therefore, in its incipient state, must be as old 
as our race. Its rude beginnings are first seen in the 
mythologies and cosmogonies of nations. These are 
as truly a search for causes, or first principles, as the 
later and more rational theologies and philosophies. 

2. Among the ancient nations, philosophic thought 
advanced but little beyond its mythological tendencies, 
except in Greece, and subsequently in Rome. The 
history of ancient philosophy is little more than the his- 
tory of Grecian philosophy. Among the Greeks, phi- 
losophy passed through every stage of development, and 

16* 



186 APPENDIX. 

presents, in epitome, a complete history of speculation. 
Here, as elsewhere, it commenced in mythologies and 
theogonies. The elements and powers of nature were 
personified and elevated into deities, as the generating 
and regulative principles of nature and natural phe- 
nomena. Facts were thus rudely classified and nature 
traced back to first causes. These cauees, however, 
were rather imaginative than rational, assumed more 
as postulates of the religious instinct, than as deduc- 
tions of reason. Greek philosophy, properly so called, 
begins with the Ionian Philosophers, Thales^ AnaxU 
mander^ and Anaximenes^ about 600 b.c. 

3. Philosophy, at the outset, would naturally be one- 
sided and partial. Thought, at first, would not pene- 
trate very deeply into things, nor take a very wide sur- 
vey of the objects of nature. It would be likely to seize 
upon only the coarser and more obtrusive elements and 
relations, and be satisfied with the most partial results. 
Commencing with the mere husk and shell of things, 
in the progress of ideas, we should expect it to pene- 
trate deeper and deeper, and extend its survey to a 
wider and still wider circle, till it embraced all objects, 
whether near or remote, and all elements, whether 
coarse or subtile, and harmonized them under one con- 
sistent, rational view. And such we shall find to have 
been the constant tendency of thought. Philosophy 
has progressed as thought in general has progressed. 

4. Primitive philosophy, then, will more commonly 
be of a physical nature. Intelligence will be regarded 
as little more than one of the many phenomena of the 
material universe, akin to, and scarcely more striking 
than motion, which is observed to exist in even unor- 
ganized matter. In the real ignorance of causes, all 



APPENDIX. 187 

nature will seem in some sense animated, and man 
scarcely more so than the rest. The first step of the 
philosopher, therefore, in attempting to account for 
what he witnesses around him, and to reduce the mul- 
tifariousness of nature to unitj^-, will be to assume some 
element, which may serve as the common basis of both 
mental and material qualities, and from whose various 
transformations, all the objects of nature, with all the 
phenomena of intelligence, life, and change, arise. At 
the same time, from the imaginative character of primi- 
tive ages, this prima mate7'ia^ or elementary principle, 
will naturally be endowed with an inherent, dynamic 
force of self development, so as to operate from within 
all the various changes and transformations which it 
undergoes. Of this nature were the archce^ or first 
principles, of the Ionian philosophers. 

5. Thales, the first in order, was born at Miletus, a 
flourishing Greek colony on the coast of Asia Minor, 
about 640 b.c. He is regarded by Aristotle as the 
first who attempted to establish a beginning of things 
on rational grounds, without the aid of myths. His 
doctrine was, " water is the beginning of all things." In 
looking around upon nature, organized and unorgan- 
ized, this seemed the most universal element. He 
found moisture everywhere. Every thing seemed to be 
nourished by moisture, and indeed, to be made up of 
it, so as to be only moisture variously transformed. 
Earth was but water condensed, and air but water 
evaporized. He assumed water, therefore, as the uni- 
versal basis of all things, as the invariable substance of 
which all special objects are but the variable forms. 
Hence, it was the single problem of his philosophy to 



188 APPENDIX. 

resolve all special existences into this, to show that this 
was the grand residuum in all analysis. 

6. Anaximander, born also at Miletus, and contem- 
porary with Thales, though somewhat younger, is com- 
monly regarded as having pursued the same line of 
physical philosophizing. With him the first principle 
of all things seems to have been^a sort of chaos (apiron), 
or, as Aristotle appears to have regarded it, a mixture 
of elements in a limitless and formless state. Kis prima 
materia, then, was a sort of general substratum, of an 
unorganized and heterogeneous nature, from which 
sprang, apparently by an inherent dynamic* action, 
the various objects, beings, and changes which consti- 
tute the phenomenal world. He seems to have felt that 
no single element was susceptible of all the various 
transformations necessary to constitute the different ob- 
jects in nature. His analysis found more than one 
element in all objects, and so he conceived the different 
elements as in combination from the first, and evolv- 
ing themselves into different forms to constitute the 
sensible world. 

7. Anaximenes, the last f of the illustrious Miletian 
trio, known as the founders of the Ionian philosophy, 
was born about a century after Thales (548 b.c), and 
pursued the same general line of investigation. With 

^ Hitter, however, considers his philosophy as of the mechanical sort, 
and Lewes, as of the mathematical. But the view expressed in the text 
is the more common and credible opinion. See Thompson's note to 
Wm. Archer Butler's History of Ancient Philosophy, vol. i, p. 320. 

t Diogenes of ApoUonia, in Crete, about a century later, took up the 
doctrine of Anaximenes, and further refined it. With him the "air" be- 
came intelligent^ as well as animate, the soul both of man and nature, — the 
elementary deityy in short, •animating and actuating all things. 



APPENDIX. 189 

him air was the beginning, or first principle, of all 
things. This seemed to him most like the general 
animating and constitutive principle of nature^ It 
seemed to unite both material and spiritual qualities. 
It filled space, investing and nourishing all things, and 
was ever in motion, as if possessing an inherent spirit 
of life. All life was supported by air ; the earth and all 
solid bodies were only air condensed in various degrees, 
while heat and cold were produced by different degrees 
of density in the same primal element. 

8. Heraclitus of Ephesus (born about 503 b.c.,) 
continued the Ionian philosophy in substantially the 
same spirit as its original founders, though with more 
breadth and a greater tendency to the spiritual. With 
him fire was the first principle and substance of the 
universe. It was the common ground both of mental 
and material phenomena ; not only the animating but 
the intelligent and regulative principle of nature. The 
phenomenal world was but a successive kindling and 
subsidence of this primal fire. He taught that the very 
existence of sensible things consists in change, in becom- 
ing and subsiding. All things are in transition, in a per- 
petual j^oi^, or change, as reported by the senses. This 
is of the very nature of fire, which perpetually enkin- 
dles and extinguishes itself by an internal, self-regulat- 
ing principle. Material objects exhibit this character 
in their ever-changing phenomena, and mind in its 
restless and fleeting thoughts, — for even God and the 
soul of man are but a more subtle flame. His sys- 
tem, in short, was that of unrest in every thing, pro- 
duced by a sort of pantheistic development of the 
subtle, intelligent element which he called fire.^ 

*= Heraclitus is known in history, or fable, as the crying philosopher ; 



190 APPENDIX. 

9. Anaxagoras of ClazomensB (born about 500 b.c.) 
is the last of the Ionian philosophers, and even in him 
the system had lost much of its original character. The 
tendency to spirituality, which was observed in Hera- 
clitus, in Anaxagoras was carried so far that he substi- 
tuted for the vague vital force of nature, adopted by 
the previous masters of the school, an infinite, inde- 
pendent, omnipresent principle of intelligence {nous). 
At the same time, he held that all space was filled with 
infinitely small particles of inert matter of different 
kinds, v/hich the regulative intelligence formed into 
objects differing as the primitive elements of which 
they were constituted differed. Natural objects were 
no longer regarded as self-developments of one or many 
elements, but as formed from an inert primitive chaos 
by an independent intelligent power, operating upon 
it from without. If we have not here the full concep- 
tion of a Divine Creator and Providence, we have 
something very like it. Anaxagoras, though born at 
Clazomenae, spent the prime of his life at Athens, and 
there taught his doctrine of an All-ordering Intelligence, 
which was afterwards so nobly carried out by Socrates 
and Plato. 

10. We have thus seen in this series of philosophers, 
a constant tendency to more and more spiritual views 
of nature. Starting with the grosser elements as pri- 
mal principles in the constitution of nature, and mind 
as wholly subordinate to matter, — a mere quality of 

• 

probably from his wearing a gloomy aspect, or, as some think, on account 
of the fleeting, unsatisfactory view of things to which his philosophy led. 
He is also called the obscure, most likely from the depth and peculiarity of 
his views. Thompson says of him (note to Butler's Plistory of Philos- 
ophy), "He was perhaps the greatest speculative genius among the fore- 
runners of Plato." 



APPENDIX. 191 

it, — they gradually adopted the finer elements as first 
principles, and at last wholly extricated mind from na- 
ture, and placed the organization and control of mat- 
ter entirely under the superintendence of a distinct 
principle of intelligence. Of course, it was admitted 
from the beginning, that the intelligence of man was 
superior to that of other animals around him, and es- 
pecially to that of unorganized matter; but it was 
regarded as differing in degree rather than in kind. 
Every thing was regarded as having a species of ani- 
mation, and hence a kind of intelligence, which was 
only more developed and more perfect in man and the 
gods, not at all different in kind. But little attention, 
therefore, was paid to the theory of knowledge. The 
Ionian philosophers do not appear to have held to any 
other knowledge than .that of phenomena, and this, in 
general, they held to be very inadequate and decep- 
tive. 

11. If now we turn from the eastern shores of the 
jiEgean to the western shores of the Adriatic, from the 
outlying Greeks in the east, to the outlying Greeks in 
the west, we shall discover a philosophical movement 
of quite a different kind. The line of speculation is 
here quite reversed. It is not so much the material 
which constitutes the world that is investigated, as the 
thought which underlies it ; not so nauch the phenome- 
nal world, as the intelligible and ideal. The phenom- 
enal world seemed to these western philosophers too 
changeable and relative, not only to the mind, but to 
the particular organization of the senses of each indi- 
vidual, to be regarded as the real world. At a period 
when the true theory of perception was not understood, 
and the various " fallacies of the senses " were unex- 



192 APPENDIX. 

plained, sense-knowledge would naturally be discred- 
ited, and seem scarcely worthy of being considered 
knowledge. Thus, the inability to handle intelligibly 
and satisfactorily the world as it presents itself to the 
senses, drove these philosophers to the speculation of 
the ideal world, in which no such difficulties and con- 
tradictions occur. The succession of philosophers here 
referred to, though differing considerably in their views, 
and not all of them historically very closely connected, 
constitute what has been called the Italic School of 
philosophy. 

12. Pythagoras, the first in the series, was born in 
Samos, an island of the ^gean Sea, about 600 e.g., 
but spent the greater part of his mature life at Crotona, 
in the southern part of Italy. His fundamental doc- 
trine was, " number is the principle of things." By this 
he could not have meant that number was the material 
or constitutive principle of things, but their determin- 
ing principle, since number or proportion dominates in 
all things. Things are and can be only copies of cer- 
tain forms or proportions. Such a doctrine was easily 
carried out into the mystical notions of number and 
harmony ascribed to Pythagoras and his followers. 
The soul, which he regarded as fire in its substance, 
was a copy of unity, the perfect number, and in allu- 
sion perhaps to his doctrine of the transmigration of 
souls, was called a " self-moving unit." At the same 
time, the divine mind was the primitive unit, from 
which all human minds were derived, and to which 
they stood related as units of an inferior order. The 
philosophy of Pythagoras has been called mathemati- 
cal, but as it assumed a rational rather than a physical 
ground of nature, it deserves rather to be ranked as 



APPENDIX. 193 

metaphysical, with that of the Eleatic philosophers, to 
which we now proceed. 

13. Xenophanes the founder of the other great 
branch of the Italic Philosophy, called the Eleatic (from 
Elea, in Italy, the seat of the school), was born at Col- 
ophon, in Asia Minor, about the same time as Pythag- 
oras, and having wandered from place to place in the 
character of a philosophic rhapsodist, finally settled in 
the above-named place in Italy. Although he alludes 
to Pythagoras, he does not seem to have had any proper 
historical connection with him. Indeed, his system, 
though having the common peculiarity of assuming a 
rational rather than a material ground for things, was 
entirely different, both in the character of its initial 
principle, and in its details. Instead of the barely har- 
monizing, or at most, but logically causal principle of 
number, Xenophanes* assumed as the ground and op- 
erating cause of the changes in outward nature, an 
uncaused, independent, and intelligent Divinity. All 
outward changes were caused by the acts of his voli- 
tion, and, apparently, were operated in a real world 
distinct from himself. 

14. Parmenides, commonly supposed to have been 
the disciple of Xenophanes, was a native of Elea, and 
further carried out the system of his master. With 
him, the Deity of Xenophanes became The One^ or 
Absolute Being. The phenomenal world was but an 
illusion — but a contexture of mental phantasms, with- 
out any reality corresponding to it. Real thought 
was confined to the absolute alone ; so that thought 
and being were one. " He distinctly recognized 
that the existent, as such, is unconnected with all 
separation or juxtaposition, as well as with all suc- 

17 



194 APPENDIX. 

cession, all relation to space or time, all coming into 
existence, and all change ; from which arose the prob- 
lem of all subsequent metaphysics, to reconcile the 
mutually opposed ideas of Existence and Coming into 
ExistenceJ^ 

15. Zeno, the last of the series of philosophers 
known distinctly as Eleatic, and a favorite disciple of 
Parmenides, was born at Elea about 500 b.c, and 
visited Athens with his master when about forty years 
old. He seems to have accepted the system of Par- 
menides as he left it, and to have devoted himself 
wholly to the task of defending it. To defend the one, 
he had to disprove the possibility of the many. This 
he attempted by exhibiting dialectically the contradic- 
tions involved in the common space-and-time relations. 
These contradictions are : 1. that as any space is infi- 
nitely divisible, no motion can commence in it ; 2. that 
hence, the swiftest moving object cannot overtake that 
which moves most slowly ; 3. that a body supposed to 
be in motion, inasmuch as it occupies space, must ac- 
tually be at rest ; 4. that one and the same space of 
time is both long and short. These are the subjects 
of his famous fallacies, some of which, at least, still 
await a solution. Zeno invented and applied to phi- 
losophy the method of Dialectics, which afterwards 
became so famous in the hands of Socrates and Plato, 
and was so abused by the Megarian philosophers. 

16. Empedocles, of Agrigentum, in Sicily (born 
about 450 b.c), belongs in spirit, as well as in local- 
ity, to the general class of Italic philosophers, though 
holding many Ionic and other views. He conceived 
the world as composed of four distinct elements, origi- 
nally combined in a sort of chaos (called by him a 



I 



APPENDIX. 195 

sphere)^ with two ' developing forces, love and hate. 
This totality of elements and forces he called God. 
He was, therefore, what in modern phrase is called a 
Pantheist; since his deity combined in himself both 
matter and developing power, so as to produce all things 
out of himself. The One or God of the Eleatics was 
thus retained, but more in the character of the self-de- 
veloping principles of the Ionics. In the assumption 
of a chaos of different elements, he may seem to have 
borrowed from Anaxagoras and with him to have pre- 
pared the way for the atomic theory of Democritus, as 
he certainly did for the theory of perception held by 
this latter philosopher, Empedocles seems to have 
first propounded the doctrine, which, under various 
forms, has had so much influence in the history of phi- 
losophy, * that ^' like is only perceived by like." Parti- 
cles, he taught, are continually emanating from objects, 
which, entering the body through the pores, come in 
contact with like particles in the human frame, and are 
thus perceived; as though perception was a sort of 
chemical action between particles. 

17. Democritus, then (born at Abdera, in Thrace, 
about 460 B.C.), the chief founder f and cultivator of 
the Atomic Philosophy, related as are his views to 
those of both Empedocles and Anaxagoras, naturally 
closes the double movement of Greek philosophy on 
the opposite shores of Ionia and Italy, that a new and 
more hopeful movement may commence from Athens, 

^ See Wight's Hamilton, p. 190, note. 

t Leucippus is called the founder of the school ; but as he has left no 
record of his views, they are known only through Democritus and other 
reporters. Democritus, it will be recollected, is known as the laughing 
philosopher, in contrast with Heraclitus, the crying philosopher. 



196 APPENDIX. 

which has come to be the true centre of Grecian influ- 
ence and refinement As already stated, Democritus 
adopted substantially the doctrine held by Empedocles, 
of perception through the emanation of material par- 
ticles or films from objects, brought into contact with 
corresponding atoms in the human frame. At the same 
time, the atoms of Democritus may have been suggested 
by the distinct elementary substances of Empedocles 
and Anaxagoras, though they differed from these ele- 
ments in the- important particulars of being indivisible, 
homogeneous, varying only in form, and, since existing 
in a vacuum, susceptible of motion, and hence of gen- 
eration or dissolution, which they were constantly un- 
dergoing by the power of Fate, thus constituting the 
phenomenal world. Besides, Democritus taught that all 
the senses were but modifications of touch, and seems 
to have made the distinction between the primary and 
secondary qualities of matter. His system was decid- 
edly materialistic, and was afterwards taken up and 
further elaborated by the Epicureans. 

18. As we have already seen, the scattered rays of 
philosophy were fast concentrating at Athens. First 
issuing from the eastern shores of the jEgean, they 
had rested a while upon " sunny Italy," and glanced 
even upon the hyperborean regions of Thrace, till now 
they were rapidly converging upon the art-crowned 
Acropolis of Athena. Nearly all the more distin- 
guished of the recent philosophers, both of the Ionic 
and of the Italic schools, had visited Athens, and many 
of them had taught and spent a large part of their life 
there. Thus was philosophy fairly inaugurated at this 
radiating centre of culture and influence. But, with 
the genuine philosophers, came also the sham philoso- 



APPENDIX. 197 

phers, called Sophists, or Wise Men, as professed 
teachers of the wisdom of the age. They were mostly 
from the outlying settlements of the Greeks, and gen- 
erally had studied philosophy in some of the schools 
already described. Their object w^as to popularize phi- 
losophy and make it practical ; to make the materials 
and culture wrought out by philosophy the basis of a 
liberal education for the ambitious youth of the free 
states of Greece, — in short, to adapt philosophy to pub- 
lic life, and make it speak and act. Their teaching, 
therefore, was a sort of philosophized rhetoric. Phil- 
osophy in their hands had no longer the simple aim of 
discovering truth ; it became a sort of art, or knack,* 
and hence was regarded by mere speculatists, like 
Plato, as but a mock-wisdom, a sham, f 

19. The leading sophists were Protagoras, Gor- 
GiAS, HippiAS, and Prodicus. As professed teachers of 
practical wisdom they received pay for their instruc- 
tion. They doubtless differed from each other in many 
of their philosophical views, but all, apparently, held, 
with Protagoras, to a mere sense^knowledge of things, 
and that " the individual is the measure of all things." 
Hence, there was to them no absolute standard of truth 
and right ; these varied with each one's individual per- 
ceptions. It does not seem certain that they fully car- 
ried out this view to its legitimate results in morals, 
though Socrates showed them that it was as applica- 
ble to moral as to metaphysical distinctions, and as sub- 
versive of the one as of the other. Though justly 
chargeable with narrow and unsafe views in philosophy 
and morals, and of having contributed to the undermin- 

* See the Gorgias of Plato, 465, A., and at large. 

t Seo the chapter on the Sophists in Grote's History of Greece. 

17* 



198 APPENDIX, 

ing of morality by their rash and over-confident asser- 
tion of the sufiiciency of the individual reason ; yet, as 
active, popular teachers of wisdom, they diffused knowl- 
edge and awakened scientific inquiry much more ex- 
tensively among the people than they ever had been 
before, and laid the foundation for that wonderful intel- 
lectual activity and culture, which henceforth distin- 
guished Athens above all other Grecian cities. 

20. Contemporaneously with the Sophists, Socra- 
tes (born in one of the suburbs of Athens, 468 b.c.), 
the most remarkable and gifted of the Greek philoso- 
phers, makes his appearance on the stage of Atheniam 
history. The son of a sculptor and a midwife, he 
united in his character and views, the ideality of the 
artist with the practical skill of the artisan, and was 
equally expert in fashioning the conceptions of his pu- 
pils and in assisting them in being delivered of them. 
Springing from the middle class of society, and drawing 
his philosophy from his own experience and thoughts, 
rather than from books and professed teachers, he ever 
retained his sympathy and intercourse with the com- 
mon people, and hence held his discussions in the shops 
and at the corners of the streets, exhibiting and enforc- 
ing his views by such familiar and homely illustrations 
as all could comprehend. As described by Plato and 
Xenophon, he opposed himself, in these discussions, 
partly to the physical philosophers — whose specula- 
tions he considered not only as unfruitful, but as little 
less than irreverent — and partly to the Sophists. In 
opposition to the mere sense-knowledge and individual 
opinion of the latter class of philosophers, he appealed 
to the intuitive perceptions and general convictions of 
men, as a solid foundation for the stability of truth and 
duty. 



APPENDIX. 199 

21. Socrates left no writings, and indeed taught no 
complete system of philosophy. He merely awakened, 
" watered," and fructified the germs of philosophic 
thought in the minds of others. He introduced a new 
method^ rather than a new system of truth. His method 
was that of induction^ leading to valid definitions or 
conceptions. Starting with some one of the general 
notions relating to man or society, to truth or duty, he 
gradually led in the mind of his opponent farther and 
farther towards the centre or essence of the conception, 
by showing one thing after another, commonly included 
in the notion, to be inconsistent with, or non-essential to, 
it. He thus taught men how to revise and purify their 
thoughts, which is the great end of metaphysical phi- 
losophy.* In these discussions he necessarily exhibited 
his opinions upon most of the important questions in 
philosophy, politics, morals, and religion, which always, 
leaned to the side of the permanent, the absolute, the 
ideal, as opposed to the empirical and the changeable. 
His most positive teachings pertain to morals, where 
he held the paradoxical sentiment, that virtue was but 
wisdom, and hence was a science which might be 
taught. Vice, then, was but the fruit of ignorance. 
This might all be true, were it not for the influence of 
passion and habit, or wrong bias. But these are so 
important disturbing influences as to entirely discredit 
the theory. As wisdom and virtue were the same, of 
course, virtue and happiness would be the same ; know- 
ing the right would lead to right action, and right 

^ With Socrates, philosophy first became primarily a criticism of knowl- 
edge, a scrutiny of thought in order to determine its validity and value ; 
and this has ever since been the chief problem of metaphysical philoso- 
phy. 



200 APPENDIX. 

action to happiness, i.e., true happiness would be found 
alone in virtue ; which, also, we find to have been a 
doctrine of Socrates. 

22. From the vigorous root of the Socratic life and 
teaching there sprang up various offshoots, externally 
more or less akin to the parent stock, but generally 
quite alien in nature, and often engrafted with germs 
from other stocks. The extraordinary personal interest 
connected with the character and teaching of Socrates 
drew around him disciples of different temperaments and 
aims, as well as those with different local prejudices 
and variously pre-occupied by antecedent instruction in 
the other schools. At the same time, the wide and free 
scope of his instruction, as well as the peculiarity and 
somewhat undeveloped state of some of his doctrines, 
gave opportunity for different interpretations, and a ba- 
sis for the rearing of widely differing systems. We 
should not be surprised, therefore, to find his disciples 
splitting up into varying sects immediately after his 
death. Free thought always produces sects, whether 
in philosophy or religion. The chief of these sects are 
the following : — 

23. (I.) The Megaric School. The seat of this 
school was Megara, and the founder Euclid (not the 
mathematician), who was born at Megara about 440 
B.C. Euclid had been a disciple of the Eleatic Parmen- 
ides before he heard Socrates. His system, therefore, 
very naturally partook of that of both his teachers ; — 
it appears to have been simply that of the One Eleatic, 
invested with the ethical coloring of Socrates. His one 
was The Good^ but whether he attached any distinctly 
ethical meaning to the good seems uncertain. It is 
doubtful whether his ethical element was any thing 



APPENDIX. 201 

more than a coloring of Socratic language, while his 
real views were substantially the same as the Eleatics, 
not merely identifying virtue and science, as Socrates 
had done, but absorbing the moral into the rational, and 
making speculation the Chief Good. Euclid was fol- 
lowed by EuBULiDES, DioDORUs, Alexinus, and Stilpo 
in the same general line of philosophizing. Like the 
Eleatics, their great instrument was logic, which they 
abused even more than Zeno. Stilpo more fully de- 
veloped the ethical aspects of The One^ by regarding the 
internal consciousness of personality as but an illusion, 
like the external consciousness of the phenomenal world, 
and making a profound impersonal indifference the high- 
est attainable excellence. He was thus the author of 
the Stoical doctrine of apathy^ afterwards so celebrated. 
24. (II.) The Cyrenaic School. This school was 
founded by Aristippus of Cyrene in Africa, a man 
of wealth and gayety, who, visiting Athens in the time 
of Socrates became his disciple, and remained with, 
him till near the time of his death, when he quitted 
Athens, and after several years of travel in quest of 
knowledge and indulgence, finally returned to Cyrene 
and put forth his doctrine of '' Pleasure the Chief 
Good." With him, the doctrine of Socrates, that vir- 
tue is happiness, was inverted, so as to become, happi- 
ness, or rather, pleasure, is virtue. The rule of pleavS- 
ure was the rule of right, not the reverse. Pleasure 
and pain were the true criteria of actions ; there was 
no higher criterion^ no other indeed. Pleasures did not 
even differ in kind, they were all on a level. His doc- 
trine was, the greatest present enjoyment is the greatest 
good, not holding even to a regulated happiness, as the 
Epicureans did later. Such a philosophy was but 



202 APPENDIX. 

little more than a license to indulgence, and of course, 
could not have had much credit with serious and ear- 
nest men. It is scarcely worth naming, except as the 
precursor of Epicureanism. 

25. (III.) The Cynic School. — This was established 
by Antisthenes, an austere disciple of Socrates, in a 
quarter of Athens called Cynosarges, whence, probably, 
the name of the school. As a school of philoso- 
phy it is of little account ; it had no philosophic sys- 
tem deserving the name, but only a repulsive, snarl- 
ing asceticism. It cannot be denied that there was 
something bordering upon asceticism, both in the 
rigid virtue and singular if not shabby dress of Socra- 
tes. There was, also, a certain contempt and defiance 
of common opinions in his doctrines and manners. 
These were easily exaggerated by austere natures into 
the disgusting asceticism of the Cynics. Both the 
founder, and his most distinguished disciple, Diogenes, 
were known by the common appellation, " the dog," 
from their filthy, snarling habits. They possessed, un- 
doubtedly, a certain rude wit and virtue, and have left 
many pointed and pithy sayings, but are of little ac- 
count as speculative philosophers. They are only 
named here as precursors of the Stoics. 

26. Plato alone (born at Athens 430 b.c), in his 
system of philosophy, truly represented the spirit of his 
master. Joining him at the age of twenty, and remain- 
ing with him some eight years, he fully imbibed his 
spirit. He was the " beloved disciple," who sympathet- 
ically received the whole spirit of the life and philoso- 
phy of his master into the soil of a rich and congenial 
nature, where it vegetated and brought forth fruit to 
perfection. But his system, though thoroughly Socratic 



APPENDIX. 20r> 

in spirit, is a great enlargement of that of his master, 
and embraces many other elements. After the death 
of Socrates, he left Athens and spent some twelve years 
abroad, visiting the different schools of Greek philoso- 
phy, and extending his travels even to Sicily and 
Egypt. He was thus prepared by his extensive ac- 
quaintance with different systems, as well as by his 
comprehensive genius, to survey the whole field of an- 
tecedent philosophy from a Socratic point of view, and 
harmonize the various conflicting views in an en- 
larged and purified reproduction of the system of his 
master. Accordingly, on his return from his travels, at 
the age of forty, he established himself as teacher of 
philosophy, just outside of the city, upon a small estate 
inherited from his father, within the enclosure of the 
public garden or gymnasium, called the Academy, 
which henceforth became the name of his school. 
Here he was soon surrounded with a band of disciples, 
and, with only two considerable interruptions, on occa- 
sion of his second and third visits to Sicily, continued 
his instruction and the preparation of his extensive 
works to the end of his life, at the age of eighty-one. 

27. Plato continued the distinction of the Eleatics 
and Pythagoreans between the permanent and the 
phenomenal world, but in a much more fruitful and 
consistent form. The great aim of the teaching of 
Socrates, as we have seen, was to establish clear and 
true conceptions of things in the minds of his pupils. 
In perfect accordance with this, we find the central 
principle of the system of Plato to have been, the doc- 
trine of ideas^ or conceptions objectified, and made real. 
These were his permanent world, being both the origi- 
nal archetypal forms of things, and the permanent ele- 



204 APPENDIX. 

ment in nature, which alone was perceived, all else 
being changeable, phenomenal, producing only decep- 
tive sensations. Matter, with him, was a mere poten- 
iialiti/y or condition for the appearance of ideas under a 
contingent form, its whole reality and perceptibility 
depending upon its participation in the eternal arche- 
types. The impression made on the organism, or sen- 
sitive soul, as he called it, by external objects, was not 
a knowledge of these objects ; it was only the appre- 
hension by the reason of the ideal element in the object 
that was true perception, which apprehension was but 
^reviving {^^ reminiscence^^) of a knowledge obtained 
in an antecedent state of existence, when reason stood 
face to face with being. 

28. Professor Butler * thus briefly states the grounds 
and consequences of the Platonic theory of perception 
by ideas : " 1st, that a true knowledge or communion 
of reason with the reality of things is ensured by the 
kindred, or even homogeneous, nature of reason and 
ideas ; 2ndly, that this intimate connection is testified 
by the impassioned aspiration f of the instructed soul 
for the perfection to be found only in the ideal world ; 
3dly, that the great business of the philosophic culti- 
vator of his intelligence, is, by the constant exercise of 
accurate abstraction, to fit the qualities of sense to rep- 
resent the everlasting models of the sphere of truth 
and being ; 4thly, that we may well conclude the ra- 
tional nature of man, formed as it is for ideal concep- 
tion, to be eternal as ideas themselves ; and though the 
sensible world itself is, by the participation of ideas, 
as perfect as the dull obduracy of its material subject 

^ Lectures on the History of Ancient Philosophy, vol. ii. p. 147.' 
t Referring to the Platonic EroSy or love for the ideal. 



APPENDIX. 205 

will permit, yet to the philosophic soul it can never 
appear in any other light than as a restriction to the 
inborn energies of the spirit, suggesting, indeed, the 
absolutely good and fair and true, but clouding and 
concealing the very perfection it suggests." 

29. The predominant spirit and aim of the philoso- 
phy of Plato is eminently ethicaL It proposes as its 
object, the purification of the soul by the contemplation 
of ideal truth and excellence. The True, the Beauti- 
ful, and the Good are all one ; or rather, the two former 
are merged in the latter, — the true and the fair both 
alike minister to the good. The Good or the Perfect 
is alike the end of both. The study of truth, therefore, 
is the study of goodness ; and philosophy is the purifi- 
cation of the soul. This is only carrying out to its 
consequences the doctrine of Socrates, that knowledge 
is virtue. True happiness, toOy was the fruit of philos- 
ophy, with Plato, as it had been of virtue or wisdom, 
with Socrates. Thus philosophy was the chief good 
with him, but only because it was the pursuit of the 
Good through the True. Indeed, the Good was the 
grand end of God himself, both in making the world 
and in all his acts. The Good determined all his ac- 
tions, as it should those of men. 

30. To borrow again from that admirable expounder 
of the doctrines of Plato, Professor Butler : * " This 
principle of Rationality is a direct consequence from 
the entire scheme of Platonism. The system supposes 
the orginal unily of the Beautiful, the Just, and the 
Good, in the True; the True being, as it were, the 
supporting or substantiating; the Good, the character- 
izing idea; the Beautiful and Just accompanying both: 

* Lectures on tlie History of Ancient Philosophy, vol. ii., p. 283, seq. 

18 



206 



APPENDIX. 



the True being the very reality of things ; the Good, 
the final cause of their being; and the gthers investing 
the True out of the strength of that final cause, — for 
wherever is the dyai^ov [the good], there will infallibly 
be the highest measure of harmonious proportion; and 
proportion is the essential idea of both the Beautiful 
and the Just. . . The great requisite of virtue, then, is 
to gain the intuition of these ideal excellencies ; and 
the original fitness of the soul to meet them is so cer- 
tain, that it cannot be conceived that it can really ap- 
prehend these eternal objects without yielding to their 
divine attraction. .... You will not, then, be surprised 
to find that the perfection, of which virtue is the ef- 
fort, is by Plato described as Sfiolcjcic -^eu, assimilation to 
God. This assimilation is the enfranchisement of the 
divine element of the soul. To approach Him as the 
substance of truth, is science ; as the substance of 
goodness in truth, is wisdom ; as the substance of 
beauty in goodness and truth, is love." 

31. Plato carried the same lofty spirit of specula- 
tion into his social, political, and even his physical 
system. His ideal state is but a community of philos- 
ophers, in which rank and authority are determined by^ 
wisdom, and the various relations and duties of life 
regulated by philosophy. Blind custom, superstition 
and prejudice were no longer to rule, but men, on the 
one hand, were to be controlled by the restraints of rea- 
son, and on the other, to have all the license supposed to 
be allowed by reason. We are prepared to expect that 
a social state established on so entirely ideal principles, 
without any regard to the lessons of experience, and 
even in contemptuous disregard of their authority, 
would tolerate extravagances and be marked by de- 



APPENDIX. 207 

fects, similar to those seen in systems conceived in the 
like spirit in modern times, and even in our own day, 
which we find to be the case. The Platonic State, with 
all its lofty ideality, is in substance, a sort of compound 
of the despotism of the Monarchy of Hobbes, and the 
license of the Socialism of Fourier, joined to that of the 
Mormonism of Brigham Young. His physical sys- 
tem,* too, was wholly ideal, and conjectural. His uni- 
verse was built up from his imagination, without resort 
to a single experiment. It was, indeed, professedly but 
an attempt at ideal world-building, an attempt to draw 
out an imaginary scheme of things which might repre- 
sent " the exquisite order and simplicity by which act- 
ual results may have been brought to pass," and thus, 
" deepen and vivify our notions of the harmony of the 
universe, and the consequent wisdom and goodness of 
its Author." 

32. The successors of Plato in the Academy were, 
first, Speusippus, his nephew, then Xenocrates, Po- 
LEMO, Crates, and Cran'tor (called thus far the Old 
Academy), and afterwards (to mention only a few of 
the leading names of the New Academy), Arcesilaus, 
Carneades, Philo, and Antiochus ; the two latter con- 



^ Plato first conceived in order to account for the celestial changes, the 
system of concentric orbs or cycles, revolving within each other, and 
bearing on their interior smface the different heavenly bodies. His sys- 
tem embraced but eight such cycles (see the diagragm in Stalbaum's 
edition of the Timceus, p. 36, b.). Afterwards the number was increased 
by others, and eccentrics and epicycles added, till it broke down from its 
, cumbrousness. It is to this system that Milton (p.l.b., 8, 83) alludes, as 
the fruit of the perverse ingenuity of man, which disfigured rather than 
explained nature : — 

" With centric and eccentric scribbled o'er. 
Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb." 



208 APPENDIX. 

temporary with Cicero, who was himself, in the main, 
an Academician, though with strong eclectic tendencies. 
None of these were men of the lofty spirit and genius 
of the founder, and hence were unable to maintain the 
dignity and glory of his school. Incapable of soaring 
to his knowledge of the ideal, they abandoned it as 
hopeless. Thus left to the empirical element alone, 
to mere sense-knowledge, they soon sank into a set- 
tled scepticism * as to the certainty of all knowledge, 
which they held could never rise above belief or proba- 
bility. They maintained, against the Stoics, the " rep- 
resentative " theory of perception, and the insufficiency 
of any impressions or representations, derivable by the 
mind through the senses from external objects, to the 
establishment of knowledge. " The impossibility of 
absolute certainty [says Professor Butler], the value of 
high probability, — these are the dominant maxims 
of the Academic philosophy." . 

33. On the contrary, in Neo-Platonism, the out- 
lines of which were first taught in Alexandria by Am- 
monias Saccas, about two hundred years after Christ, 
and which subsequently spread to Rome and Athens, 
the ideal element of Plato was seized upon, and carried 
out to ruinous excess. Like the genuine Platonism, it 
held to a knowledge of the absolute, not, however, 
through the intervention of ideas in the human mind, 

'^ The absolute scepticism ofPfjiTho, Timon, AenesidemuSy Sextus Empiri- 
cus, etc., was but an exaggeration of the moderate scepticism of the New 
Academy, and in part, indeed, was historically affiliated with it. Their 
general doctrine was, that nothing actually existed as it seemed, ai?d that 
such were the contradictions and perplexities in all pretended knowledge, 
that the repose necessary to happiness could be found only by maintain- 
ing an entire suspension of judgment and all positive assertions about 
things. 



APPENDIX. 209 

but by a sort of ecstatic absorption of the individual 
reason into the Infinite Reason, so that it became con- 
scious of whatever that was conscious of. New Pla- 
tonism was an attempt to construct, on the general 
basis of Plato's system, a philosophy capable of rival- 
ling and even superseding Christianity. Hence its 
claim of ecstatic vision and superhuman illumination. 
But these very pretensions, by which it hoped to be- 
come a religion as well as a philosophy, proved its ruin. 
Its mystic enthusiasm soon degenerated into magic 
and sorcery and all manner of extravagance.* Thus 
the direct continuations of Platonism, in both its 
branches, had failed to realize the fair promise which 
the system gave as it came from the hands of its au- 
thor. 

34. Aristotle, to go back now to the time of Plato, 
was the truest representative of his master. He was 
the son of Nicomachus, an eminent physician of Sta- 
gira, in Thrace, and was born 384 b.c. Coming to 
Athens in his seventeenth year, he soon after became a 
pupil of Plato at the Academy, and remained such for 
about seventeen years, till the death of his master. Al- 
though pursuing different lines of inquiry from Plato, 
and coming to quite different results, the central idea 
and method of his system are plainly traceable to his 
master. As Plato had developed the purified concep- 
tions and definitions of Socrates into positively exist- 
ing ideas, apprehended in experience as a reminiscence 

^ The chief masters of Neo-Platonisra were, — at Alexandria, lamhli- 
cus and Hierocles, — at Rome, Plotinus, Porphyry, and Amelius, — and at 
Athens, PlutarchuSy Syrianus, Proclus, Mannus, Isidorus, and Zenodotus^ 
under which last teacher, in 529, the schools of Athens were closed by 
an edict of Justinian. 

18* 



210 APPENDIX. 

of a previous knowledge, Aristotle, reduced these ideas 
to mere mental abstractions elaborated by the reason 
through the recollections or reminiscence of actual eX" 
perience. In like manner, the Socratic method of in' 
vestigation became one of demonstration in his hands, 
and the dialectics of Plato re-appeared as formal logic 
in Aristotle. The " idea,'' therefore, was no longer an 
objective reality, but a subjective conception or thought. 
Still, as he supposed, a valid science of Being might be 
constructed from such empirical materials by passing 
them through the alembic of logic. Beginning thus 
soundly with experience, his philosophy ended in mis- 
taking consistency of formal thought for material truth. 

35. On the general question of the relation of the 
permanent to the phenomenal, Aristotle introduced the 
distinction of matter and form. With him, what is 
permanent in things is the simple, unformed matter or 
material of which they are composed, while particular, 
phenomenal objects are that general material under va- 
rious determinate and appreciable forms. The perma- 
nent, therefore, was mere potential being, while the 
phenomenal was actual being, — existence made actual 
by the Great Actor and Former of all things. Hence, 
the permanent and the changing, the infinite and the 
finite, were but the same general substance, in the one 
case without, and in the other with, form. 

36. Aristotle was an extensive and profound inves- 
tigator of nearly all the great subjects of human curios- 
ity and interest, as Logic, Physics, Metaphysics, Ethics, 
Politics, and Rhetoric. He treated all these subjects 
with a copiousness and precision unattained by any of 
his predecessors. Instead of the vague poetic style of 
preceding philosophers, he adopted the most rigidly pre- 



APPENDIX. 211 

cise and technical style, which expressed -nothing but 
his bare ideas, and aimed to establish all his principles 
by solid arguments. He was unquestionably the most 
learned and profound of all the ancient philosophers. 
In him Greek philosophy reached its culminating point, 
and soon declined through various partial systems, as 
Stoicism^ Epicurianism^ Scepticism.^ and New Platon- 
ism — -of which, the two last-named systems have already 
been characterized ; so that it remains, only, briefly to 
describe the two former, in order to complete the sur- 
vey of Greek philosophy. 

37. Stoicism (so called from the stoa^ or portico, 
where it was taught), as already stated, was the rival 
and antagonist of the New Academy. The two 
schools were at decided variance on the theory of 
knowledge, the former holding, though with some 
vagueness and vacillation, to an intuitive or immediate 
consciousness of external objects in perception, the lat- 
ter, to only an inferential knowledge of them, through 
the medium of a representative image, somehow re- 
ceived or formed in sensation. The difference, in this 
respect, between the two schools, seems to have been 
substantially the same as that between the two branches 
of the Scotch school, represented, on the one side, by 
Reid and Hamilton, and on the other, by Brown.* 
"With the one, therefore, knowledge was valid and cer- 
tain, with the other, only probable. The Stoics stoutly 
resisted the scepticism of their age, as Reid and his fol- 
lowers did that of theirs. 

38. But the predominant aim of stoicism was ethi- 
cal. Their psychology was but a carefully laid foun- 

^ See liis twenty-fifth Lecture, and Hamilton's Review of Keid's Works, 
Philosophical Discussions, p. 38 — 98. 



212 APPENDIX. 

dation upon which they might securely raise the super- 
structure of their moral system. Zeno (of Citium, in 
the island of Cyprus), who founded the school, came 
to Athens when a young man, and became a disciple 
of Crates, of the Cynic school. And though he after- 
' wards attended the school at Megara, and the Acad- 
emy, he always retained the strong ethical tendency 
of his first instructors, and something even of their as- 
ceticism. In his system, and that of his followers, 
God was little more than the laws of nature, its for- 
mative and actuating soul. To act according to nature, 
then, was to do the will of God, and hence was the 
highest virtue. Accordingly, conduct was to be con- 
trolled by reason taking a calm and comprehensive 
survey of the order of nature, and not by impulse or 
the love of pleasure. Happiness and all external ad- 
vantages were regarded as mere accidental concomi- 
tants of action, not as a real good, or end of nature. 
The system not only placed happiness below the right, 
but disregarded it altogether, and endeavored to re- 
place all emotion by a profound indifference and ap- 
athy. The great masters of the Stoic philosophy, after 
the founder, were Cleanthes^ Chrysippits^ and later, 
PancetiuSy and Posidonius. 

39. Epicureanism, founded and taught at Athens by 
Epicurus (born 342 b.c), in what was called the Gar- 
den, was an exaggeration in the opposite direction. As 
the Stoics rejected happiness altogether, as an end of 
life, the Epicureans made it the chief end of life ; not, 
indeed, the happiness of unrestrained gratification, of 
whatever sort, like the Cyrenaic school, but yet mere 
happiness, as such. Epicureanism was not a system 
of mere sensualism or momentary indulgence, but rather 



APPENDIX. 213 

of self-interest. It required a subordination and sys- 
tematization of the different kinds of happiness, but 
only as such a course is necessary in order to attain the 
greatest amount of happiness on the whole. Conduct 
was to be regulated, but by no higher standard than 
that of an enlightened self-interest. It recognized no 
immutable law of right and wrong, and hence left each 
one to be governed by the wholly uncertain standard 
of his individual conception of what was for his own 
good. At the same time, it made happiness consist 
largely in the absence of pain and care,, and hence ex- 
empted the gods from all interest or concern in the 
affairs of men. * 

40. These are all the important forms assumed by 
Greek philosophy during the course of its eventful his- 
tory. The Socratic movement, with all its fruitfulness 
and wide-spread influence, had now exhausted itself. 
Stoicism, Epicureanism, and the Academic philosophy, 
continued to divide the opinions of men, till they were 
all, together with that new and more pretentious form 
of Platonism, already described, superseded and ab- 
sorbed by the more positive faith of the Gospel. The 
Greek language and philosophy were carried into the 
East by the conquests of Alexander, and into the West 
by the conquests of Rome, but they never became 
thoroughly naturalized in either of these regions. Sto- 
icism was not without its admirers and disciples in the 
stern patriots and military classes of Rome, as Epici^- 
reanism w^as* not, among her luxurious and self-indul- 
gent classes, and even the Academic philosophy, among 

^ The physical and psychological views of the Epicureans were merely 
a further elaboration of the Atomic system of Democritus, which has al- 
ready been described. 



214 APPENDIX. 

her men of genius and learning, like Cicero ; but nei- 
ther here nor at Alexandria did they receive any new- 
development, except in the single form of New Pla- 
tonism, w^hich was rather a corruption than a true car- 
rying out of the original system. Neither the stern, 
imperial West, nor the dreamy, mystic East, was con- 
genial to the true spirit of philosophy. 

41. Grecian philosophy had now run its course, and 
fallen before the onward march of Christianity. But 
soon thought began again to assert its independence, 
and demand a reason for the faith of the Church. To 
meet this demand was the object of Scholasticism. 
Seeing her doctrines assailed, the sages of the Church, 
such as Anselm, Abelard, Thomas Aquinas^ and Duns 
Scotus (1034-1308), set themselves at work, from vari- 
ous points of view, to establish the rationality of their 
creed. For this purpose, they made use of the mate- 
rials furnished by the antecedent Greek philosophy, 
and especially of the system of Aristotle, whom they 
were wont to designate, by way of eminence, " the phi- 
losopher," and who supplied them with their phraseol- 
ogy and chief principles. They elaborated their sys- 
tem with great industry and ingenuity, forming a 
framework of dialectical subtleties which carried the 
mind off from the real nature of things, and rather 
confused than convinced it. After a long and earnest 
struggle, the attempt at reconciliation finally failed, 
and religion was left to its own peculiar province, that 
of the practical reason, which proceeds upon convic- 
tions and postulates of its own, w^hile philosophy re- 
tained possession of the sphere of the speculative rea- 
son, which deals only in conceptions demonstratively 
established. 



i 



APPENDIX. 215 

42. The downfall of Scholasticism was effected only- 
after the most obstinate resistance, and through the in- 
fluence of various co-operating causes. Among these 
were the Revival of Letters from the dispersion of 
Greek scholars over Western Europe, on the breaking 
up of the Eastern Empire, the Protestant Reformation, 
and the advancement of Physical Science under Co- 
pernicus^ Kepler^ Galileo^ and Bacon, For, though 
Bacon did not, like the other philosophers here named, 
devote himself to physical studies and experiments, he 
drew out in the most imposing and attractive form, the 
method of conducting such studies, and most emphati- 
cally and authoritatively asserted the necessity of quit- 
ting the barren subtleties of Scholasticism, and return- 
ing to the direct study of nature. Other philosophers, 
as Bruno in Italy, and Boehme in Germany, promoted 
the same tendency, though in a more obscure and mys- 
tical way. At length, thought was again emancipated, 
and soon began to evince its independence in commenc- 
ing the foundations of Modern Philosophy. 

43. Modern Philosophy begins with Descartes 
(born at La Haye, in Touraine, 1596). Dissatisfied 
with the results of the philosophy of former ages, he 
attempted the construction of an entirely new fabric 
of philosophic thought — a fabric which should be solid 
and impregnable against all doubt. He starts wdth the 
simple consciousness of self-existence. His famous 
cogitOy ergo sum^ simply asserted his existence as a 
thinking being, on the ground that he was conscious of 
thinking. That we think cannot be doubted, for to 
doubt is to think, and hence doubting proves think- 
ing ; as far forth as one is conscious of thinking, so 
far forth he necessarily exists as a thinking being. The 



* 216 APPENDIX. 

truth of our existence, then, is established beyond cavil. 
At the same time, the assurance with which we receive 
this truth becomes a rule for the reception of other 
truths — we may receive any thing else as true, when 
we know it with the same clearness and certainty with 
which we know our own existence. Yet our certainty 
of any thing out of ourselves wants some further 
voucher for its actual objective existence besides our 
internal conviction, 

44. Here Descartes calls to his aid the idea of God, 
which he regarded as innate^ or implanted in us by God 
himself. And this innate conception of God he held 
to be such, as to forbid the supposition of his having 
so made us that we should unhesitatingly receive as 
true what is really false. Whatever, then, in the legit- 
imate use of our powers of perception and reasoning, 
we feel forced to receive as true, is so. God is no de- 
ceiver, knowledge is no deception. At the same time, 
Descartes proceeds to deduce from the idea of God, 
the nature of substance, both material and immaterial, 
and to build up an entire philosophy of nature. This 
certainly is making the idea of God a pretty fruitful 
one, not merely in moral but in philosophical results. 
Such deductions may appear highly plausible, may in- 
deed possess a high degree of probability, but must be 
destitute of that demonstrative certainty demanded by 
philosophy, especially by a system of philosophy which 
professes to take nothing on trust. This working back- 
ward, therefore, to establish truth and existence from 
the idea of God is unsatisfactory. Indeed, it seems 
rather crude and credulous to assume the idea of God 
as innate ; though perhaps in this and other cases, Des- 
cartes meant by innate, merely that the form of the 



APPENDIX. 217 

conception is ready furnished by the mind — that our 
mental constitution is such that we inevitably conceive 
things so and so, on experience. 

45. According to Descartes, matter possesses the sole 
property of extension, and mind the sole property of 
thought. They have nothing in common, but each is 
the negation of the other. Their intercourse is only 
maintained supernaturally by the intervention of the 
Deity. The soul is conceived as seated at the centre 
of the brain, in the pineal gland^ and as being deter- 
mined to perception by certain motions produced in 
that organ by the action of external objects upon the 
senses. External objects themselves, therefore, are not 
perceived, nor even the images or motions of them ; 
they are merely, through the divine assistance^ the occa- 
sions* of perception. Mind and matter were thus 
clearly distinguished, — more so, perhaps, than in any 
antecedent system, — but, at the same time they were 
made so independent of each other as to render it diffi- 
cult to conceive how the intercourse between them was 
to be maintained. 

46. Malebranche (born at Paris, 1638), a zealous 
Cartesian, feeling the difficulty of mediating between 
mind and matter according to his master's view, sought 
a medium of perception in which the opposition be- 
tween them should be overcome. Such a medium he 
found in God himself. Instead of calling in the inter- 
vention of God in perception, like Descartes, he trans- 
ferred human perception wholly to him as a medium. 
God as the absolute substance, from which all other 

^ This was virtually Descartes' doctrine of perception, though the doc- 
trine of Occasional Causes was explicitly drawn out only by his disciples 
De la Forge, Geulinx, etc. Sec Wight's Hamilton, p. 205, note. 

19 



218 APPENDIX. 

substances are derived, was regarded as containing all 
things ideally in himself. Nature, thus spiritualized in 
God, might be perceived by spirit, and was actually 
brought into relation to our spirits by the all-embracing 
presence of God. God, in whom all nature was real- 
ized, was at the same time the place of souls. Thus 
we know and see all things in God. * 

47. Spinoza (born at Amsterdam, 1632), commenc- 
ing an earnest student of Descartes, soon abandoned 
as hopeless the task of mediating between mind and 
matter on Cartesian principles, and boldly transferred 
the thought and extension^ by which Descartes charac- 
terized mind and matter respectively, to a single sub- 
ject. Indeed, thought and extension, in his system, are 
but correlative qualities, the one subjective and the 
other objective, if not, indeed, merely the opposite sides 
of the same quality, as apprehended by the human un- 
derstanding. All finite, phenomenal objects are but 
modes of this infinite substance, related to it as waves 
are to the ocean. In man and other finite intelligent 
beings, the general thought of God comes to a distinct 
unity of consciousness, as his extension is developed 
into distinct forms in different material objects. The 
world in all its forms, and in all its aspects of thought, 
life, change, and mx)tion, is but the unfolding of God 
according to the necessities of his own nature. Thus 



^ Arnauld, a contemporary and fellow-countryman of Malebranche, was 
also a distinguished cultivator of the Cartesian philosophy. But he con- 
tributed nothing towards the mediation of mind and matter, which was 
the chief difficulty in the system of his master. Indeed, as he does not 
seem to have held to an immediate perception of external objects, his 
discarding all mediating ideas derived from these objects — important as 
the step was in itself — ratlicr increased tlian relieved tlie difficulty. 



APPENDIX. 219 

all proper personality and moral character are destroyed 
in both man and God. 

48. The main positions of his system are thus briefly 
stated by Lewes : " There is but one infinite Substance, 
and that is God. Whatever is, is in God ; and with- 
out him nothing can be conceived. He is the univer- 
sal Being, of which all things are the manifestations. 
He is the sole Substance ; every thing else is a Mode ; 
yet without Substance, Mode cannot exist. God, 
viewed under the attributes of Infinite Substance, is 
the natura naturans^ — viewed as a manifestation, as 
the Modes under which his attributes appear, he is 
the natura naturata. He is the cause of all things, 
and that immanently, but not transiently. He has 
two infinite attributes — Extension and Thought. Ex- 
tension is visible Thought, and Thought is invisible 
Extension: they are the Objective and Subjective of 
which God is the Identity. Every thing is a mode of 
God's attribute of Extension ; every thought, wish, or 
feeling, a mode of his attribute of Thought. Sub- 
stance is uncreated, but creates by the internal neces- 
sity of its nature. There may be many existing things, 
but only one existence ; many forms, but only one Sub- 
stance. God is the ' idea immanens ^ — the One and 
All." These points are established by a most rigid 
course of demonstrative reasoning, proceeding by defi- 
nitions, axioms, proposition, etc., after the manner of 
geometry. And here precisely is the ground of his 
error. Mathematical reasoning develops only the con- 
tents and relations of quantitative conceptions, not the 
nature of being, or the reality of things. 

49. The next independent attempt at philosophizing 
was made by John Locke (born at Wrington, 1632), 



220 APPENDIX. 

the founder of English philosophy. His philosophy is 
of the empirical sort, and decidedly materialistic in its 
tendency. He had been preceded in the same line by 
his fellow-countryman, Thomas Hobbes, * but only in 
a random, fragmentary way. Locke's fundamental 
principle is, that the mind of man starts with nothing, 
and ends with nothing, except what it derives either di- 
rectly or indirectly from experience, — that it has merely 
the power of receiving, retaining, and combining what is 
given in experience. All its treasured knowledge, when 
analyzed, is resolvable into ideas of sensation and ideas 
of reflection ; i.e., into the ideas which are given di- 
rectly in the perception of external objects, and those 
which arise in the mind from the contemplation 6f 
these. Starting with this principle, it is the great busi- 
ness of his philosophy to reduce all knowledge to these 
two classes of ideas, which he attempts to do by an 
elaborate analysis of the contents of the mind. 

50. The defects of such a system are obvious. If 
the mind imparts nothing in perception, if it be wholly 
dependent upon experience for its knowledge, then it is 
altogether a subordinate power, determined wholly from 
without. Besides, how can knowledge be verified if 
there be not some fixed principles of thought — some 
necessary laws of thought or modes of conception, to 
which we can appeal as attesting the validity of our 
experience? If the mind does not itself conceive some 
things as being necessarily so and so, there are no start- 
ing-points to knowledge, and every thing may be 
doubted. And that there are such primary principles 



^ Hobbes is chiefly known as a. psychologist by his theory of the Associ- 
ation of Ideas. 



APPENDIX. 221 

of knowledge is often unconsciously admitted by- 
Locke himself; as where he admits that it is illegiti- 
mate to dispute whether a thing can " both be and not 
be," and allows that we have an idea of substance, 
though it clearly is not and cannot be known by expe- 
rience. A system so partial could hardly fail of soon 
being carried out to its absurd consequences, which was 
actually done, and that in two different directions. 

51. In its most obvious tendency towards material- 
ism, while it was universally tolerated, and in some in- 
stances even exaggerated, by contemporaneous and 
succeeding English philosophers, as Newton^ Clarke^ 
Willis^ Hook, Hartley J Darwin^ etc., it was taken up 
with enthusiasm in France by Coridillac, HelvetiuSy La 
Mettriej Diderot^ Holbachy Lagrange (1715-1770), and 
the other writers who brought on the corruption in 
morals and the disorganization in society which ended 
in the French Revolution. While Locke referred all 
ideas to sensation and reflection, Condillac referred 
them all, and even the very faculties of the mind them- 
selves, to sensation, thus converting his Empiricism 
into Sensualism ; and Helvetius merely drew the prac- 
tical consequence of this theoretical doctrine, that sen- 
suous pleasure and pain are the only, and consequently 
the highest, stimulants or motives to action. La Met- 
trie, and the Encyclopedists and writers of the System 
of Nature, further elaborated these vile principles, and 
carried them out with shameless audacity and particu- 
larity to their legitimate consequences, the denial not 
only of all morality and religion, but of the very ex- 
istence of God, as well as of the spirituality and im- 
mortality of the soul. 

52. But Locke's philosophy, by the most opposite 

19* 



222 



APPENDIX. 



tendencies, led not only to materialism, but to idealism, 
as well. Its empirical character, while it made it ma- 
terialistic in substance, made it subjective in principle. 
It contained no valid assertion of the existence of the 
external world. By denying to the mind authoritative 
principles of knowledge and necessary modes of con- 
ception, as well as a direct consciousness of external 
things, it virtually denied all real knowledge of outward 
objects, and the validity of all such general conceptions 
as those of Cause, Time, Space, etc. George Berke- 
ley, therefore (born at Kilkrin, Ireland, 1684), in order 
to avoid the materialistic and atheistic tendencies of his 
system, wholly rejected matter as an independent exist- 
ence, denying all objective reality to external objects — 
making them merely a succession of internal ideas pro- 
duced in us by the Will of the Creator.^ 

53. On the other hand, David Hume (born at Edin- 
burgh, 1711), gladly accepting the empirical nature and 
subjective tendencies of Locke's system, carried it out 
to its last consequences, in the denial of a substantive 
existence not only to matter, but to mind also, as 
well as all general abstract ideas, and particularly 
that of causation. Holding with Locke and Berkeley, 
that all our knowledge comes of experience, and 
that in experience nothing is known beyond the ideas 
themselves . begotten in the mind, which cannot be 
copies, or in any way adequate representations, of 



^ Berkeley stoutly asserts that his system accords with the vulgar belief; 
that the common mind in perception, thinks it perceives, and consequently 
believes in the existence of, only a combination of mental affections. But 
this is evidently the very reverse of the fact. The common mind, far 
more than that of the philosopher, adheres to an external reality as the 
cause of perception and the substratum of the qualities perceived. It can- 
not believe, whatever the philosopher may do, that pumpkins and melons 
are merely alternately developing and decaying ideas. 



APPENDIX. 223 

external things, he denies all knowledge of substance, 
whether material or immaterial, or of causation, 
whether physical or spiritual. He admits, to be sure, 
a universal and unavoidable belief in these, but regards 
it as a blind instinct, or prejudice, generated by habit. 
He regards our idea of material substance as wholly 
generated by our various sensations of the so-called 
material qualities ; our idea of self, by many rapidly 
succeeding states of consciousness ; and our idea of 
causation, by association, or the habit of seeing one 
event follow another.* 

54. While the philosophy of Locke was being carried 
out to its consequences in England and France, the 
gifted and comprehensive genius of Leibnitz (born at 
Leipsic, 1646) was elaborating a highly original and 
ingenious system, opposed on the one hand, — by the 
assertion of native and necessary forms of thought, — 
to the empiricism of Locke, and on the other, to the 
lifeless and characterless pantheism of Spinoza. An 
accomplished scholar and versatile courtier, he spent a 
large part of his time in the varied duties of diplomacy, 
pursuing philosophy only at intervals, and published 
his views mostly in a fragmentary form, and frequently 
in the French language. His most considerable works 
are the Theodic^e, the Monadology, and the Nouveaux 

*■ These, clearly, are but the just conclusions from a philosophy which 
holds that perception is wholly representative, and that " there is nothing 
in the intellect which is not first in the senses." They can be avoided 
only by vindicating- a direct perception of external objects, and the exist- 
ence in the mind, as an original endowment from the Creator, of neces- 
sary forms of thought, according to which we mould our experience ; that 
the mind is so made, that it cannot perceive qualities without ascribing 
them to a something to which they belong ; nor change without ascribing 
it to a causative power. 



224 APPENDIX. 

Essais, the first chiefly theological, and the other two 
metaphysical. 

55. Like Spinoza, Leibnitz holds to the existence of 
but one general substance ; yet not to a dead, charac- 
terless, indeterminate substance, but to one full of ac- 
tivity and life, and distributed among an infinite num- 
ber of individual beings, specifically differing from each 
other in quality. At the same time, this substance is 
wholly ideal, being deprived of all real extension, and 
made up of mere metaphysical points instinct with life. 
Each of these points is a monad, or distinct individual, 
differing from every other in quality, while they all 
alike, and each by a spontaneous activity, represent or 
mirror in themselves the universe. In inorganic mat- 
ter, the representations are so numerous and confused 
that they do not come to a unity of consciousness ; in 
the vegetable world, the representative activity of the 
monads rises to a formative vital force ; while in ani- 
mals, the representative activity rises to an obscure 
consciousness, — and in man, to a distinct conscious- 
ness. 

56. All substance, then, is either distinctly or con- 
fusedly intelligent. The mind of man is distinctly in- 
telligent, his body only confusedly so. And yet by a 
pre-established harmony they are always in perfect cor- 
respondence with each other. The monads of the body 
always represent exactly the same things as those of 
the mind, the one mechanically, the other consciously, 
so that they are always in exact harmony ; like two 
time-pieces, moved by mechanism of the same pattern 
and from the same master-hand. But the body has no 
influence upon the mind, nor the mind upon the body, 
— they simply run together. Our knowledge, there- 



APPENDIX. 225 

fore, is not mere sense-knowledge. It does not come 
from without, but is produced from the mind itself. 
All ideas are innate, in the sense that they are always 
potentially in the mind. With much that is fanciful in 
this system, there is much that is substantial, and forms 
the basis of the most approved philosophy of the pres- 
ent day, especially the assertion of native forms of 
thought, potentially in the mind antecedent to experi- 
ence. 

57. It was on the general basis of the philosophy of 
Leibnitz that Christian Wolf (born at Breslau, 1679) 
reared his elaborate system of metaphysics. He did 
not, however, so much develop to their completeness the 
fragmentary but highly fruitful germs of thought thrown 
out by this great philosopher, as attempt from existing 
materials, to construct a comprehensive system of phi- 
losophy according to his general principles. Hence, 
while he retained the same idealistic view of things as 
Leibnitz, he kept his peculiar theory of nature quite in 
the background. After the fashion of the times, he en- 
deavored to embrace in his system all the great prob- 
lems of existence, both real and possible. His philoso- 
phy was both theoretical and practical, including logic, 
metaphysics, and ethics. Under metaphysics was em- 
braced Ontology, or the necessary conceptions under 
which things are known, and which were thought 
to apply not only to phenomena, but to things in 
themselves ; Cosmology, or the conception of the world 
in its cause, beginning, composition, parts, etc. ; Ra- 
tional Psychology, or the conception of the soul as a 
simple, immaterial, unchanging substance and self- 
conscious personality ; and Speculative Theology, or 
the conception of a Supreme Being as the highest con- 



226 APPENDIX. 

dition of the possibility of all things. His system, 
comprehensive in plan, and drawn out with mathemati- 
cal precision, though mistaking formal for material 
truth, was highly esteemed in Germany, and remained 
the dominant philosophy till it was overthrown by 
Kant. 

58. We have now arrived at a point in the history 
of philosophy, where the stream of speculation, already 
many times interrupted and divided for a season, sepa- 
rates into two independent and diversely flowing cur- 
rents, which have continued their divergent courses to 
the present time. The philosophy of Locke, which 
had ended in materialism in France, had by a reaction 
ended in idealism, first in England and now in Ger- 
many. The whole movement having issued in an ex- 
aggerated and one-sided view of things, it was inevi- 
table that the philosophical faculty would seek some 
new point of departure and new principles of proced- 
ure, in order to reach a more satisfactory result. Such 
was actually the case, and that, too, at about the same 
time, in the two most widely removed centres of philo- 
sophical speculation, — Scotland and Germany. And 
not only so, but the impulse, in both cases, came from 
the same source — the scepticism of Hume. Reid and 
Kant were contemporaries, and according to the testi- 
mony of each left on record, were independently in- 
cited by the sceptical conclusions of Hume, to attempt 
the reconstruction of the fabric of knowledge on a new 
and safer foundation. And not only so, they both ap- 
pealed to the same general principles of certitude — the 
original instincts or conceptions of the soul, though 
with different degrees of distinctness and consistency, 
and, as we shall see, with almost opposite results. We 



APPENDIX. 227 

will first briefly trace the German and then the Scottish 
movement, which will complete the abstract proposed. 

59. The philosophy of Kant (born in 1724, at K6- 
nigsberg, Prussia, where he was teacher and professor 
of philosophy in the university about forty years) ap- 
peared in the form of several distinct critiques^ and is 
known as the Critical Philosophy. Instead of starting, 
as had been the fashion, with some single principle (as 
the cogito ergo sum of Descartes, or the monads of 
Leibnitz) and deducing his system from this, he starts 
with a criticism of the principles of knowledge, with 
an analysis of its conditions, in order to ascertain its 
possibility and limits, and mete out its domain. His 
philosophy, therefore, is partly destructive and partly 
constructive. His criticism is designed not only to clear 
away the dogmatic rubbish, but to disclose the genuine 
foundation-principles of knowledge. The result of his 
criticism is, that the strictly metaphysical sciences. On- 
tology, Rational Psychology, Speculative Theology, 
etc., are based upon mere assumptions, and hence, that 
philosophy is restricted to the sphere of the phenome- 
nal. The unconditioned cannot be known, but only 
the conditioned. Our notions of a psychical, a cosmo- 
logical, and a theological unity, which he calls the ideas 
of reason, are mere regulative principles for simplifying 
and systematizing our knowledge, not real constitutive 
principles of knowledge. 

60. But, at the same time, he holds, against Locke 
and Hume, to fundamental judgments or forms of 
conception, by which all our experience is connected 
and moulded. By an inner necessity of our thinking, 
we not only posit every thing in time and space, but 
necessarily think of things under the forms either of 



228 APPENDIX. 

unity ^ plurality^ totality; reality^ negation^ limitation^ 
substance and quality^ cause and effect; possibility^ ac- 
tuality^ necessity. These are his famous Categories of 
Thought, or a priori Conceptions of the understanding. 
As necessary forms of thought they have a universal 
validity, but, being in themselves v^holly empty, they 
become valid synthetical judgments only as they are 
filled by the matter of experience — by actual intui- 
tions or perceptions. While, therefore, Kant connects 
together the fabric of knowledge by the cement of gen- 
eral principles, and thus saves it from falling asunder, 
he so dispossesses this fabric of all objective reality, as 
to render it little more than a fairy castle, a mere phan- 
tom of the mind. Thus, even Kant, with all the solid- 
ity and masculine vigor of his mind, remained true to 
the ideal character of his nation, and made knowledge 
virtually subjective. 

61. Not that he actually denies objective existence 
to things. Indeed, he verbally, at least, holds on to their 
objective existence^ and all along supposes them the 
cause of sensations. He nowhere clearly draws the 
inevitable conclusion of his philosophy. After resolv- 
ing space and time into mere subjective conditions of 
thought, and denying any thing more than a moulding 
and regulative authority, respectively, to the concep- 
tions of the understanding and the ideas of reason, he 
makes a labored effort to save, at least, the existence 
of God, and the freedom and immortality of the soul, 
from the effects of his destructive criticism. This he 
does on the authority of the Practical Reason, or con- 
science, which, as undetermined from without, demands 
with .authority a perfect moTal law, a perfect virtue, and 
a perfect happiness ; involving, respectively, the neces- 



I 



APPENDIX. 229 

sity for the freedom of the soul (will), the immortality 
of the soul, and the being of God. 

62. The appearance of Kant's Critique of Pure Rea- 
son (in 1781) at once created an epoch. It is unques- 
tionably the most important event which has occurred 
in the history of modern philosophy. Not so much 
from the amount of absolute truth which it contains, as 
from the almost new phase of speculation which it ex- 
hibits, and the surprising depth, thoroughness, and com- 
prehensiveness with which the discussion is conducted. 
It turns up a hitherto almost unknown and quite unex- 
plored side of things. Notwithstanding the extreme 
abfetractness and rigor of its principles, and the appal- 
ling difficulties of its terminology, it swept every thing 
before it in Germany, and has greatly influenced the 
direction and tone of philosophical speculation, in all 
civilized countries, ever since. It was soon adopted by 
all the ablest teachers in the different German universi- 
ties, most of whom confined themselves to expounding 
its doctrines in a more popular form, and supplying 
its deficiencies, while only* a few set themselves either 
decidedly to oppose, or positively to develop and carry 
out, the system. Of these, only Jacobin Herbart^ and 
Fichte need here be named. 

63. Frederic Henry Jacobi (born at Diisseldorf 
in 1743, and during the latter part of his life President 
of the Academy of Sciences in Munich) was a man of 
fine genius and of rich and varied culture, with a strong 
dash of the poetic in his nature. It was inevitable that 
a mind so gifted, and sentimental withal, should be 
repelled by the cool destructiveness of a critical phi- 
losophy which annihilated all the most cherished ob- 
jects of sentiment and faith, or at most, allowed them 

20 



230 APPENDIX. 

only a doubtful existence, as postulates of the practical 
reason. Accordingly, he grounds his philosophy on 
immediate instead of mediate knowledge ; on faith and 
feeling, instead of conception and discursive thinking, 
which were the basis of the Kantian philosophy. As 
he holds to an immediate apprehension of external ob- 
jects by sense, so he holds to an immediate apprehen- 
sion of supersensible objects by reason ; and that, in 
each case, these primary apprehensions manifest them- 
selves as irresistible beliefs or feelings that things are 
so and so. As conceiving is but conditioning (he rea- 
sons) we can never reach the unconditioned or infinite 
by discursive thinking, and all metaphysical philosophy 
is impossible, unless rational beliefs or feelings be taken 
as the deepest and most veritable cognitions of which 
we are capable.* 

64. John Frederick Herbart (born at Oldenberg, 
1776) was Kant's successor at Konigsberg, and is in- 
troduced here before Fichte, though chronologically 
subsequent to him, because he completes the develop- 
ment of the Kantian philosophy on one side, which was 
continued from Fichte, on the other, by Schelling and 
Hegel His system is a somewhat peculiar and un- 
fruitful carrying out of the realistic or empirical side 
of the philosophy of his predecessor. In his system 
knowledge is only of the given ; it cannot transcend 
experience as a basis. Even the conceptions of the 
understanding and the ideas of reason are based on 
realities, and it is the business of philosophy, not to 
deny their validity on account of the contradictions 
which they contain, as did Kant, but to remodel them 

^ In like manner, Herbert Spencer regards belief as our deepest cogni- 
tion. See his Principles of PsycJiologyy chap. ii. 



APPENDIX. 231 

SO as to free them of contradictions. He attempts such 
a purification of conceptions through his doctrine of 
"reals," in which he assumes all substances to be 
composed of simple, unextended monads, differing from 
each other in quality, and affecting each other by action 
and reaction. Every substance, therefore, has just as 
many primitive and independent reals as it has quali- 
ties, and hence the contradiction between oneness in 
substance and multiplicity in phenomena disappears. 
So, too, a substance changes only by a shifting to and 
fro of the reals, or by the interaction among them from 
a mutual effort at " self-preservation ; " which interac- 
tion, on the principle of "accidental views," may, on 
the one side, be said really to change, and on the other, 
not to change, each other. In like manner, the antino- 
mies of motion may be solved on the principle of " in- 
tellectual spaces," according to which reals may be said 
on the one hand to be together^ and on the other, to be 
separated. And thus of other ontological questions. 
The soul, however, is a simple real^ and its acts but 
attempts at self-preservation against the encroachments 
of other objects. Herbert's doctrine of reals^ it will be 
perceived, is quite similar in its general features to the 
atomic theory of Democritus. 

65. John Gottlieb Fichte (born at Rammenau, 
1762), a man of extraordinary independence and acute- 
ness of mind, was appointed professor of philosophy at 
Jena in 1793, afterwards (in 1805) at Erlangen, and 
finally, dean and rector of the new university in Berlin, 
where he died in 1814, in the fifty-second year of his 
age. His starting-point was the philosophy of Kant, 
which he regarded as virtually a system of idealism, 
and stoutly contended that he was right in interpreting 



232 APPENDIX. 

it as intentionally such, until publicly contradicted by 
Kant himself. There can be no doubt, therefore, that 
he was wrong as to the intention of Kant to construct 
a system of idealism ; but that it is virtually so, must 
be quite as evident to every carefal reader of his Cri- 
tique. At any rate, such was it understood to be by 
Pichte and such has it proved to be in its effects. 

66. Kant having made perception a synthesis of 
subject and object, the mind contributing one part and 
the external object another, towards the general result, 
Fitchte advanced a step further, and declared percep- 
tion and thought in general to be wholly an act of the 
mind, without the concurrence or co-operation of any 
thing external. As all thought is necessarily subjective, 
he found no warrant for assuming the existence of any 
thing out of the mind ; nor any necessity for it, indeed, 
since all the phases of experience and thought might 
be easily accounted for on ideal principles. The mind 
is active in its nature, and in acting, it necessarily as- 
sumes something acted upon, or co-operating with it in 
the act — every mental act involves at the same time a 
self ?indi a not self a subject and an object. In percep- 
tion, one necessarily affirms a self and a not-self as 
relatives in thought^ but nothing beyond this. Besides, 
the different categories of thought are only the different 
relations which the subject and object may be conceived 
as holding to each other. External objects, then, are 
only objectified thoughts, or rather, that self-imposed 
limitation of thought by which alone we become con- 
scious, or have any thoughts at all. Thus we make 
the external world by our internal activity. Self and 
its representations constitute the universe. Even God 
is nothing more than the abstract Moral Order of 
things. 



APPENDIX. 233 

67. Such is a hint of the character of the subjective 
or egoistic idealism of Fichte, of which Sir W. Hamil- 
ton says,* that it is " developed with the most admirable 
rigor of demonstration," and is '' the purest, simplest, 
and most consistent which the history of philosophy 
presents." And yet it ends virtually in nihilism. " The 
sum total." says Fichte (quoted by Hamilton), in sum- 
ming up the result of his theoretical philosophy, " is 
this: There is absolutely nothing permanent either 
without me or within me, but only an unceasing 
change. I know absolutely nothing of any existence, 
not even of my own. I myself know nothing, and am 
nothing. Images there are : they constitute all that 
apparently exists, and what they know of themselves, 
is after the manner of images, — images that pass and 
vanish without there being aught to witness their tran- 
sition ; that consist in fact of the images of images, 
without significance and without an aim. I myself 
am one of these images ; nay, I am not even thus 
much, but only a confused image of images. All re- 
ality is converted into a marvellous dream, without a 
life to dream of, and without a mind to dream ; into a 
dream made up only of a dream of itself. Perception 
is a dream ; thought — the source of all the existence 
and all the reality which I imagine to myself of ?7i2/ ex- 
istence, of my power, of my destination — is the dream 
of that dream." 

68. Frederick William Joseph Schelling (born 
at Leonberg, 1775), beginning his career as a speculative 
philosopher while yet at the university (at Tiibingen), 
became, on leaving the university, a student and 
teacher of Philosophy at Jena, in conjunction with 

* Wight's Hamilton, p. 24, note. 

20-- 



234 APPENDIX. 

Fichte, and afterwards, professor of philosophy, first at 
Wiirtsburg (in 1803) and then at Munich. In his phi- 
losophizing he started with Fichte, but soon passed far 
beyond him in the wild pursuit of the absolute. He 
accepts, with Fichte, the identity of subject and object, 
but unlike him, makes them perfectly coordinate and 
equally real. The object is no longer produced from 
the finite subject, but both alike are produced out of the 
infinite subject — the absolute. Human souls are but 
separate centres of consciousness in the absolute, in 
universal Nature ; and the experience of life, in all of 
which subject and object figure as the opposite poles, 
is but the outworking of the Infinite. Ordinary ex- 
perience or consciousness is possible only through the 
contrast of subject and object ; but in the higher, and in- 
deed, impersonal clairvoyance of Reason ox the Intellec- 
tual Intuition^ the contrast disappears, as polarity does 
at the indifference-point of the magnet, and subject and 
object, knowledge and being, become absolutely one. 
Schelling, in short, was a pantheist, with a peculiar 
theory of knowing the absolute. Further to illustrate 
the views of a philosopher, so subtle and occupying so 
important a position in the history of recent specula- 
tions in Germany and other countries, I transfer to my 
pages a few luminous paragraphs, descriptive of Schel- 
ling's system, from Sir W. Hamilton's celebrated re- 
view of Cousin. 

69. This admirable critic thus sets forth and can- 
vasses his chief positions : " While the lower sciences 
are of the relative and conditioned. Philosophy, as the 
science of sciences, must be of the absolute^ — the un- 
conditioned. But how, it is objected, can the absolute 
be known ? The absolute, as unconditioned, identical, 



APPENDIX. 235 

and one, cannot be cognized under conditions, by dif- 
ference and plurality. It cannot, therefore, be known 
if the subject of knowledge be distinguished from the 
object of knowledge ; in a knowledge of the absolute, 
existence and knowledge must be identical ; the abso- 
lute can only be known, if adequately known, and it 
can only be adequately known by the absolute itself. 
But is this possible ? We are wholly ignorant of exist- 
ence in itself: the mind knows nothing, except in 
parts, by quality, and difference, and relation ; con- 
sciousness supposes the subject contradistinguished 
from the object of thought ; the abstraction of this con- 
trast is the negation of consciousness ; and the nega- 
tion of consciousness is the annihilation of thought it- 
self. The alternative is therefore unavoidable; either 
finding the absolute, we lose ourselves, or retaining self 
and individual consciousness, we do not reach the ab- 
solute. 

70. " All this Schelling frankly admits. But he con- 
tends that there is a capacity of knowledge above con- 
sciousness, and higher than the understanding, and that 
this knowledge is competent to human reason^ as iden- 
tical with the Absolute itself. In this act of knowledge, 
which, after Fichte, he calls the Intellectual Intuition^ 
there exists no distinction of subject and object, — no 
contrast of knowledge and existence ; all difference is 
lost in absolute indifference, — all plurality in absolute 
unity. The Intuition itself — Reason — and the Ab- 
solute are identified. The absolute exists only as 
known by reason, and reason knows only as being 
itself absolute. 

71. ''It would be idle to enter into an articulate refu- 
tation of a theory, which founds philosophy on the 



236 APPENDIX. 

annihilation of consciousness, and the identification of 
the unconscious philosopher with God. The intuition 
of the absolute is manifestly the work of an arbitrary 
abstraction, and of a self-delusive imagination. To 
reach the point of indifference, — by abstraction we an- 
nihilate the object^ and by abstraction we annihilate 
the subject, of consciousness. But what remains ? 
Nothing. ' Nil conscimus nobis.^ We then hypostatize 
the zero; we baptize it with the name of Absolute; and 
conceit ourselves that we contemplate absolute exist- 
ence, when we only speculate absolute privation. 

72. " To Schelling it has been impossible, without 
gratuitous and even contradictory assumptions, to ex- 
plain the deduction of the finite from' the infinite. By 
no salto mortali has he been able to clear the magic 
circle in which he had enclosed himself. Unable to 
connect the unconditioned and the conditioned by any 
natural correlation, he has variously attempted to ac- 
count for the phenomenon of the universe, either by 
imposing a necessity of self-manifestation on the abso- 
lute, i.e., by conditioning the unconditioned ; or by 
postulating a fall of the finite from the infinite ; i.e., by 
begging the very fact which his hypothesis professed 
its exclusive ability to explain." 

73. And still further, briefly to indicate at this point, 
in the words of the same author, the relation of the 
system of Schelling's great French disciple, Victor 
Cousin, to that of his master: " Cousin and Schelling 
agree, that as philosophy is the science of the uncon- 
ditioned, the unconditioned must be within the com- 
pass of science. They agree, that the unconditioned 
is known and immediately known ; and they agree that 
intelligence, as competent to the unconditioned, is im- 



APPENDIX. 237 

personal, infinite, divine. But while they coincide in 
the fact of the absolute, as known, they are diametri- 
cally opposed as to the mode in which they attempt to 
realize this knowledge. Cousin declares the condition 
of all knowledge to be plurality and difference ; and 
Schelling, that* the condition, under which alone the 
knowledge of the absolute becomes possible, is indifter- 
ence and unity. The one thus denies a notion of the 
absolute to consciousness ; whilst tne other affirms that 
consciousness is concerned in every act of intelligence." 
74. George William Frederic Hegel (born at 
Stuttgart, 1770), an early friend and college chum of 
Schelling, at Tiibingen, was subsequently professor of 
philosophy at Jena, at Heidelberg, and at Berlin, where 
he died in 1831. Starting from the stand-point of 
Schelling, he reduced his system to order, and carried 
it out to its last logical consequences. Schelling, while 
assuming the identity of subject and object at the point 
of indifference^ had yet assumed the reality of both 
poles. Hegel, on the contrary, abolishes alike the re- 
ality of both poles, and admits only the reality of their 
relation. The equipoise of subject and object thus be- 
comes a mere abstract relation of the two. The Indif- 
ference Philosophy becomes the Absolute Philosophy, 
and the Intellectual Intuition only Logical Conception. 
For, not only are subject and object absolutely one, but 
being and non-being, light and darkness, and all other 
contraries and contradictories. Indeed, the fundamental 
principle of his system is, the identity of contraries. All 
possibility of contradiction is thus avoided, and the 
way opened for the wildest revelry of thought. Philoso- 
phy becomes the possible in thought, with the principle 
of contradiction eliminated. Theoretically, his system 



238 APPENDIX. 



is the evolution of such a system of thought, while 
practically, it is the application of it to nature, life, 
opinion, history, etc., i.e., the explanation of the appar- 
ent world, and course of events, according to such ab- 
stract and fantastic forms of thought. In such a sys- 
tem, nature, man, and even God, can be only an 
evolution of the absolute, and in the last analysis, only 
a process of thought^ a nothings in short. Here we have 
Absolute Idealism, following upon the Objective Ideal- 
ism of Schelling, as that had followed upon the Sub- 
jective Idealism of Fichte. 

75. With Hegel the German movement closes. He 
seems to have pushed Idealism to its utmost limits, 
rendering any further development impossible ; at all 
events, there has been no further development since his 
time. And if, now, having traced this movement to 
its close, till it has " vanished in thin air," we return 
again to Hume, to trace in few words the Scottish line 
of speculation, we shall find a movement of a very dif- 
ferent order, and of a much more sober and hopeful 
character. The Scotch school of philosophy was 
founded by Thomas Reid (born at Strachan, 1710, and 
successively professor of philosophy at Aberdeen and at 
Glasgow), and has embraced a succession of able men 
but of these only two besides the founder are of suf- 
ficient importance to deserve particular mention in a 
mere abstract of the history of philosophy — Dugald 
Stewart and Sir W. Hamilton (both professors of phi- 
losophy at Edinburg). While Reid originated the sys- 
tem, Stewart illustrated and rendered it attractive, and 
Hamilton perfected it. Reid and Stewart are gener- 
ally at one in doctrine, it is only in Hamilton that we 
find any considerable advance upon the founder. 



1 



APPENDIX. 239 

76. The general principles of the school are thus ad- 
mirably stated by Hamilton in his review of Cousin : 
^' In Scotland, a philosophy had sprung up, which, 
though professing, equally with the doctrine of Condil- 
lac, to build only on experience, did not, like that doc- 
trine, limit experience to the relations of sense and its 
objects. .Without vindicating to man more than a 
relative knowledge of existence, and restricting the sci- 
ence of mind to an observation of the fact of conscious- 
ness, it, however, analyzed that fact into a greater 
number of more important elements than had been 
recognized in the school of Condillac. It showed that 
phenomena were revealed in thought which could not 
be resolved into any modifications of sense, external or 
internal. It proved that intelligence supposed princi- 
ples, which, as the conditions of its activity, cannot be 
the results of its operations ; that the mind contained 
knowledges, which, as primitive, universal, necessary, 
are not to be explained as generalizations from the con- 
tingent and individual, about which alone all experience 
is conversant. The phenomena of mind were thus dis- 
tinguished from the phenomena of matter ; and if the 
impossibility of materialism was not demonstrated, 
there was at least demonstrated the impossibility of its 
proof." 

77. These primary principles of knowledge or forms 
of thought native to the human mind, Reid called 
" principles of common sense," and hence the Scotch 
school of philosophy has usually been denominated the 
School of Common Sense. As regards perception, or 
the nature of our knowledge of external objects, which 
is the grand distinguishing feature of all systems of 
philosophy, the Scotch metaphysicians are Natural 



240 APPENDIX. 

Realists, They hold to an immediate knowledge of 
external objects, without the intervention of any medi- 
ating mental representation or idea. This doctrine was 
intentionally, though not in all respects consistently, 
held by Reid and Stewart, and has been fully and con- 
sistently carried out by Hamilton. 

78- According to Hamilton, the mind, present in all 
parts of the organism, or at least at its central termina- 
tions, is directly conscious of the affections of that or- 
ganism, through corresponding affections of its own, 
and, in the mutual outness of these affections, appre- 
hends the body as something extended. At the same 
time, through our power of locomotion, and the resist- 
ance to this locomotion which we meet with in our ex- 
perience, we become conscious of the existence of 
objects exterior to our bodies, which also become known 
as extended objects, by the impressions wliich they 
make on our organism, already known as extended. 

79, But as the principles of the Scotch philosophy 
are well known in this country, and form the general 
basis of the preceding treatise, nothing further need be 
said on the history of this school. And having thus com- 
pleted the abstract of philosophy w^hich I intended ; 
having traced in outline — distinct, I hope, though mea- 
gre — the wayward course of speculation from the ear- 
liest times to our own, I leave the subject, trusting that 
the bare sketch here presented, will prove sufficient to 
stimulate the curiosity of the student to pursue in detail 
a department of history so interesting and fruitful. 



7 82 



r*ii). 6 1861. 



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